Darkest of Bruises
by flowinthestream12
Summary: It's the beginning of Harry's 6th year at Hogwarts. He falls extremely ill at the Burrow just before term began because of how underweight he was. He continues to struggle with the fact that the Dursleys' have neglected and abused him as he tries to maintain his delicate recovery when term begins. He needs his friends more than ever.
1. Wounded

"Did they run out of food in London or are the Dursley's starving you?" demanded Mrs. Weasley as Harry joined them all at the dinner table.

Harry shrugged his sharp and boney shoulders, "I'm fine, really, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry's face had always been a bit on the gaunt side. He was always skinny. But, now that he was hitting his growth spirt, it was more apparent at this age of 16. He was now nearly 5'9''.

"Well, regardless, I've been working hard on dinner all day so you better eat a lot of it. We don't want to waste any, right?"

"Sure," said Harry, feeling embarassed and wanting the attention to be deflected from his naturally skeletal frame.

As far back as he could remember, he always lost weight when he returned to the Dursleys for the intervening summers. This was because he no longer had large helpings cooked by house elves. At the Dursley's, he was allowed what ever was left over. Seeing as he had two whales for an uncle and cousin, there was hardly anything left for him. Sometimes nothing at all. Harry would vainly transfigure something in his room into a fruit suitable for eating whenever this happened. But, evidently by Mrs. Weasley's annual examination, this had all been in vain. Plus, it's not like he had enough possessions to transfigure.

He allowed Mrs. Weasley to serve him however much she wanted him to eat. Clearly, by the amount she set for him, she wanted his stomach to explode. He shared an exasperated look with Ginny from across the kitchen table and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window behind her. Even though he had been smiling, the muscles had hardly filled-out his hollowed cheeks at all. Even while smiling, he still looked gaunt and lines cut into his thin cheeks. His jaw line was very sharp and his cheek bones were sticking out. Harry groaned inwardly at his sunken eyes.

Harry promptly turned to his meal and was nearly 3/4 of the way done before he could not go any further. The skin around his stomach, tight with malnoutrishment, was straining with all the food. It almost angered him when he caught a glance at Mrs. Weasley's disappointed look as she took his plate away. _Didn't she undertand that if he ate anymore he would not be able to stand up let alone get himself to bed?_

Harry leaned back and sighed dramatically. He intertwined his fingers as she placed his hands over his slightly protruding stomach. Since his chest was so thin and flat, his newly distended stomach became more noticable.

"Who else is full?" he asked. "Mrs. Weasley, thank you for this. It was great."

"I'm glad, dear."

Harry started to feel nauseous. He had eaten too much. Well, he had eaten too much by _his uncle's _standards. Everyone else, including the girls, had gone for seconds after eating what he had. He reached for his glass of water but was blocked by his full stomach and sank back.

"Alright, time for bed everyone."

Harry's nauseau had passed as his stomach settled. But, he found it a little difficult to stand. He put it off as being ready for bed. But, in reality, his filled stomach was weighing him down. Ron lifted Harry up and slung one of his boney arms around his muscley shoulders. Harry finally broke free of this embarassment and slowly followed Ron up the stairs to Ron's bedroom. _Why did it have to be on the top floor?_

"I always forget what its like to eat normally," he laughed to himself once they finally reached Ron's room.

Ron looked at Harry, "Well, that's kind of sad, isn't it?"

Harry was just in the act of removing his baggy sweater (hand-me-down of Dudley's) when he paused at Ron's words, "Why? It's only for a little while, like always. I've got your mom to set me right."

Ron laughed, "Yeah, whatever. Let's get some sleep."

Harry turned off his lamp in an effort to hide Ron from further shock as Harry pulled off his sweater, hooked it on the foot of the bed, changed into some baggy drawstring pants (Dudley's), and eased himself into bed. Harry thought it should feel easier, better to go to bed with a full stomach. Instead, he felt a huge weight in his abdomen that made him physically uncomfortable no matter which way he tried to get comfortable. Pure exhaustion was the only thing that dragged Harry under for the night.

The next morning came slower than Harry wanted. Throughout the night his heavy stomach had been bothering him. So, it was no surprise to Harry when he had difficulty sitting-up after he awoke to Ron thumping him on the back of the head as Ron headed for the bathroom. They met Hermione halfway down the stairs to the kitchen. Harry could smell the food cooking from two floors above. He couldn't see how he was going to eat that much again, let alone three times a day. He still felt full.

Harry turned away from the kitchen table, stepped out of the door, and stood in the golden shadow of the warm rising sun. He felt quite tired so he clumbsily sat down on the lawn, starring at nothing. He loved being here. He loved having a warm bed to sleep in, more than enough food to eat, friends for comfort, a real family that cared about his health. It took a moment for him to realize that Hermione and Ron had joined him outside.

"I should thank the Dursleys," said Harry, his gaunt cheeks sucking in and out with each word.

Hermione and Ron exchanged shocked looks.

"If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be reminded how blessed I am to have you guys." Harry explained, glancing at both of them.

Hermione reached forward and squeezed his sharp shoulder. Harry cleared his throat, his adam's apple bouncing up and down. Equally as awkwardly as before, he assended to his full height and led the way back into the kitchen. He knew that babying him made Mrs. Weasley happy and he didn't want to upset her so he allowed her to serve him again. He was slightly disappointed that she served him obviously more than the others had at the table. But, he tried to eat as much as he could. This time, with last nights food probably still digesting, Harry couldn't finish as much as he had before. This didn't go unnoticed by Mrs. Weasley.

"Don't you want to fit into your robes again?" she teased lightheartedly, "Robes don't look good hanging off of anyone."

Harry knew her heart was in the right place. If only she could share that tight feeling he was experiencing right now in his abdomen. Maybe if he wore tighter shirts she would see that he has eaten his fill.

"Mum, leave him be," said Fred, grabbing Harry's plate and sliding the left-overs onto his own plate. "Besides, he has to be tiny. He's a seeker."

Harry rolled his eyes and made to excuse himself from the table but was again weighed down. Not only that, but a sharp pain had raged around his stomach region. Harry gasped, squeezed his eyes shut, and sank back down into his chair, placing a long, boney, and shaking hand over his stomach. For a moment, Harry worried that he had actually ripped his stomach open. But, the pain passed after a couple of seconds. When Harry opened his eyes again, he found everyone watching him with concern.

Hermione gently placed her fingertips on top of Harry's hand that was still on his stomach before whispering, "Is everything okay?"

Breathing a little heavily in the aftermath of the pain, Harry nodded and tried to smile. His voice was shaking when he tried to answer her.

"Don't worry," he breathed, "I'm sure it's nothing."

Harry closed his eyes again as nauseau threatened him. He couldn't see it, but he knew that Hermione didn't believe him. Hermione moved her hand to his back. Harry felt her fingers glide over his shoulder blade which was sticking out of his back and felt them jerk away from his protruding spine. She settled her hand on his lower back.

"It didn't look like nothing," Hermione glanced at Ron, "Can you help me?"

Before Harry knew it, Ron was dragging Harry's chair back.

"Come on, mate," he said as he started to hook his hands underneath Harry's armpits.

Harry wriggled away from Ron's strong hands, "I can get there on my own, thanks."

Harry tried to get to his feet as smoothly as possible. He permitted Ron to follow him to the stairs but then insisted on taking the rest of the way alone. It was an even longer trip, which Harry wouldn't admit would have been cut easily in half if he had help, than the night before. Harry barely made it to his bed before collapsing on it, fully clothed. At lunch and dinner time, different members of the household brought him food.

Harry found it much easier to eat while lying down. Perhaps it was putting less pressure on his abdomen. But, when it came time to get up, Harry was scared that the pain would return. He had eaten more than the night before. He started slowly and supported his way to the bathroom, going as gently as possible. It went on like that for two days. By the third day, Harry was growing worried that he wasn't progressing like he usually did while at the Burrow. It certainly never took him this much effort let alone did he notice it much before. Hermione shared his feelings. She came to visit him like she usually did.

"You must have a hollow leg because nothing seems to be sticking," she teased lightly, rubbing his skinny bicep.

Harry finally couldn't keep his building fear to himself any longer, "What's wrong with me, Hermione?"

Hermione pulled her hand back, "I know that you joked that you'd _thank _the Dursleys. But, I hate them. I think they did this to you."

Harry had already been fed breakfast and lunch so when he tried to sit up in bed that horrifying pain that had erupted almost a week ago returned with a vengence. His body bucked at the pain and he collapsed onto his pillow, breathing shallowly.

"What i-i-if th-this is p-p-permanent?" he breathed. "H-h-how ... c-can I go back t-to ... Hogwarts ... l-like this?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes welling with tears at seeing Harry trying desperately to contain his pain. She reached to grab his hand but Harry winced, weakly pulling his hand away.

"N-no, please ...," he shook his head and Hermione understood that it hurt for him to be touched. "I-it should p-p-pass s-soon."

This time, it took an agonizing entire minute for the pain to go away. This time, Harry had felt the food rising back up his throat. He didn't know if he could keep it down. Hermione pointed her wand at the empty glass on Harry's bedside table as Ron rushed in.

"_Aguamenti_," Hermione casted on the cup which promptly filled with crytsal clear water.

"I heard something," said Ron worriedly, "was it Harry?"

Hermione ignored him and pleadingly offered the cup to Harry, "Please, drink this, Harry. You'll feel better."

Harry shook his head, closing his eyes again. Dark spots had started to cloud his vision. Harry felt heavy again, his head felt weighed down. He felt confused and tired after the pain. Sleep pulled him into its tempting grasp and refused to let go. Hermione was afraid to touch him again. Harry could hear her worried voice calling his name. But, he couldn't reassure her if he wanted to. He was now asleep ... but not for long.

Just as Ron sat down on his bed, Hermione leapt out of her chair as she saw vomit leaking out of the corner of Harry's gaped mouth. This time she had to touch him. Hermione gripped Harry's shoulders and shook him.

"Harry, wake-up!" she screamed. "Harry, wake-up, please! You'll choke!" she turned to Ron, who was now right by Harry's unconious body. "Help me lift him up!"

"He hates that!" protested Ron, moving Hermione's hands away from Harry's arms. "I'll hurt him!"

But, then he saw the vomit on the pillow and he easily set Harry upright without needing Hermione to tell him twice. Harry suddenly jerked awake and started to vomit profusely. He gasped for air in between heaves. Ron summoned the trash can from the corner of the room, emptied it out manually and gave it to Harry. Harry was so delirious he dropped the trash can with a loud _clang_. He had already been vaguely aware of the trembling coming from the stairs. Mr. & Mrs. Weasley arrived in the room just as Ron scooped up the trash can again, waited for a pause in Harry's wretching, and placed it underneath Harry's chin.

There was nothing left to vomit, so why was he continuing to heave? Harry had never felt so sick in his entire life.

He finally managed to mummble, vomit dripping from his lips, "I'm ... dying."

His world was again clouded by black blotches. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling over a bath tub in Ron's bathroom, supported by Ron & Mr. Weasley. He couldn't listen to all their frantic voices. Harry felt himself drifting away again. He was light again. There was nothing left in his stomach. His elbows, which had been supporting him over the edge of the tub, gave way and he sank till he was slumped over the rim. He had lost conciousness again. The last thing he remembered was tasting the metallic flavor of his own blood.

Harry couldn't tell how long he had been asleep. He only knew that the nauseau was gone. He only knew that he was lying on something soft. Then, he felt something warm and wet dab at his forehead. Harry blinked his emerald eyes open and saw the blurry outline of Hermione at his bedside. He couldn't see it but she was smiling at seeing him awake.

"Thank goodness, you're awake!" she squeezed his hand, which Harry found no longer ached when touched.

Harry mummbled, "My glasses?"

Hermione helped him put them on and Harry made to sit up in his bed but felt Hermione place her hands on his chest, stalling him.

"No, Harry, you should lay still," she said.

Harry held up a hand and she let him go. He sat up, leaning gingerly against the headboard. He placed his hands over his stomach. It felt warm and numb.

"What happened to me?" he asked Hermione, looking down at her.

Hermione sat back on her stool, "To be honest, we refused to believe it ... but, we think it was a simple case of over-eating after a period of near-starvation. Mrs. Weasley mended your stomach. She said an ulcer must have ruptured. She feels responsible."

Harry blinked slowly, "She saved my life. I think she more than made up for it. She only had good intentions. I need to see her."

Harry didn't know much about medical emergences. But, he knew from Uncle Vernon that ulcers were ticking timebombs. It was going to rupture one day. Harry was glad that it was at least in the privacy of the Burrow.

Harry pushed his covers back and towered over Hermione. He felt amazing compared to how he had been. The potion was making him feel numb all over now. Hermione led Harry down to the kitchen, which was the most likely place to find Molly Weasley.

The rest of the house was eating lunch at the time. Ron immediately got up when he saw Harry & patted him on the back.

"Good to see you up with the living, mate."

But, Harry's eyes were on Molly. They both skirted around the table and embraced each other. Harry tucked her head beneath his chin.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said to her, rubbing her back heaving with sobs. "This was not your fault. I was sick before all this. You saved my life."

They pulled apart, still touching each other. Molly reached up and cuped Harry's hollow cheek in her hand.

"I don't suppose you're hungry, dear?" she asked with a small smile.

Harry chuckled, "As long as you go easy on me this time."

He was surprised when she served him a cup of potatoe soup in a coffee mug. She handed him a spoon and told him to pace himself. Once he's feeling strong enough for it, she'll add solids to the soup slowly.

Harry took a sip and smiled at her, "It's good."

Everyone's attentions turned away from him finally. Over the next two days, Mrs. Weasley allowed Harry to eat solids in small portions. She had learned that overfeeding him was not the answer to his emaciated frame.


	2. Back to Hogwarts

A week later, Harry was eating solids again. He was careful to listen to his stomach about when to eat and when to stop.

Everyday, he saw himself progressing. The trenches in his ribs didn't seem as deep as before & he was beginning to ache less while sitting on hard surfaces. Mrs. Weasley put a scale in all the bathrooms to make it less embarassing for Harry. Some people in the house were surprised by the weight they had & proceeded to go on secret diets. Harry, however, was the only one who had to make sure that he didn't lose any of the weight he had begun to gain back.

The first of September was only a week away. A week too soon for Harry. He had gone up from 109 pounds to 115 pounds but at this rate he was still going to look sickly thin by the time they boarded the Hogwarts Express. He barely weighed more than Hermione at the moment. However, Harry wanted to base his weight on how healthy he felt & not what he looked like. He certainly had more energy now than before.

Ron & Harry measured themselves one morning. Harry was still 5'9" & Ron was a touch over 6'. Ron casually, without hiding his pride, mentioned that he was 45lbs heavier than Harry 'in passing'. Harry knew Ron would be great at Keeping this year. As September 1st closed in on him, Harry managed to scrape on three more pounds before Ron's parents dropped them all off at Kingscross Station.

Harry tried to tell himself that the usual prying eyes were just trying to get a good look at his lightning bolt scar, not his gaunt face or spindly arms.

"EY, Potter!" he heard the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy try to grab his attention.

Harry begrudgingly turned to face his least favorite fellow student, "What now?"

Draco seemed to take note that Harry's voice had gone as deep as the trenches in his ribs before retorting, "Did a dementor get a little too friendly with you over summer? I've seen more meat on a ghost!"

Harry was wearing hand-me-downs of Dudley's which hung off of him. He regretted declining Ron's offer of borrowing some of Ron's old clothes.

Ron glowered down at Draco, "Just ignore him. He doesn't matter."

Harry turned his back on Draco and followed Hermione & Ron to a compartment to themselves. On the way to Hogwarts, Harry bought treats for them all. Couldron Cake wrappers and Chocolate Frog boxes littered both benches. Hermione and Ron pushed most of their chocolates onto Harry. Harry heard them say that they weren't that hungry.

But, he knew that they just wanted to help him stay on his path to a healthy weight. When the train was close enough to Hogsmeade Station, the trio became to pull on their uniforms. Hermione left to a girls compartment to change, leaving Ron & Harry with all their supplies. Harry was reluctant to stand. He had ignored his stomach's pleads to stop again, giving in to Hermione and Ron's offers to make them happy.

His stomach now had that all too familiar tightness about it again. He was afraid to rise too quickly lest he re-rupture his barely healed stomach. Harry got to his feet gingerly, which didn't go unnoticed by Ron.

"Been sitting too long, huh, mate?" Ron chuckled.

_At least Ron rarely assumes the worst like Hermione would_, thought Harry. He nodded, turned his back on Ron, and began getting into his uniforms just as the train screeched to a halt.

"Hurry up, Harry." said Ron as Harry yet again readjusted his belt to almost the furthest hole from the end.

Even though he was still underweight, Harry felt the need to walk gingerly to keep from stretching his stomach too much. He used the excuse of his trunk being too heavy. But, just as he was exiting the train, Draco hooked his foot around Harry's boney ankle and sent him tumbling down the stairs. Harry crumbled to the ground and cursed through gritted teeth. He had skinned his palms and knees. At least nothing happened in his abdomen region except a wave of nauseau. Harry cringed on hands and knees while Draco, Crabbe, & Goyle guffawed at him as they slid passed. Ron knelt down beside Harry & placed a large hand on Harry's back.

"Harry, are you alright?" Ron asked, but Harry continued to heave like he was resisting puking. "Stop doing that, mate. You're scaring the First Years."

Harry tried to retort angrily back but instead felt something rising up his throat. Determined not to lose his lunch, Harry forced his mouth closed and got to his feet with Ron's help. As they hurried to rejoin their class before all the carrages were taken, Ron said in an undertone, "I thought you were getting better."

Harry sighed, "I am, don't worry about me. Please, don't tell Hermione. No point in worrying her."

But, judging by how quickly Hermione was running to them, Harry guessed that it was in vain to keep it a secret. The whole school probably knew by now. The rumor must be somewhere along the lines of 'the Dursleys reduced The Chosen One to a weakling'.

Harry tried to be as invisible as possible at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He didn't even raise his hands to clap whenever a new first year joined the table. He kept his eyes downcast so that no one would catch his attention. He was so lost in thought that Hermione had to nudge him when the food magically appeared on all the tables. Still not wanting to draw attention to himself, Harry discreetly piled on as much food as he thought he could handle and sat back. No one paid him any attention other than Ron and Hermione.

His school cloak was great for hiding just how badly he still needed to gain weight. Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and hot breath steaming by his ear.

"Potter, do you have a toothpick? Or can I just use you?" whispered Draco Malfoy tauntingly.

Ron reached around Harry and shoved Malfoy away. Draco cackled on his way back to the Slytherin table.

"I'm so sick of this," grumbled Harry loudly enough for just Hermione & Ron to hear.

"Just ignore him," said Ron, "his words mean squat."

Harry pushed his plate away from him but Hermione stopped it, "Don't lose your appetite."

"Too late," he whispered to himself and rested his head on his arms crossed on the table.

All Harry managed to consume at the dinner was a slice of apple pie when desert replaced the main course on the table. His taut stomach wasn't nearly as stretched as he usually made it. Harry knew he would be starving in a few hours. In an abrupt sense of defiance, Harry quickly stuffed three cupcakes into his pocket, wrapping them in a cloth first.

2


	3. Only Just Begun

Harry tucked his blankets beneath his chin. But, in doing so, he poked his feet out from the end of the bed. He told himself that maybe he was going through a growth spurt this time around. Maybe that's why he's struggling to put on weight. Harry squinted around his dorm.

All the boys except Neville were fast asleep, snoring raucously. Neville was reading a book by wand light. Harry supposed it was his potions text book. It was good of Neville to try to be prepared for tomorrow's lesson. Maybe Snape won't be as hard on him as usual.

As discreetly as possible, Harry rolled over in his bed and pulled the cloth with three cupcakes out from where he had hidden them behind his pillow. But, once he opened the cloth, their sweet aroma drifted over to Neville.

"Oy!" Neville hissed, "can I have one? I need something to keep me awake."

Harry knew that Neville could see how many he had in the cloth. He, however, might as well be blind without his glasses on. Harry nodded at the blurry blob he knew was Neville and the boy crept over to Harry's bedside. Harry pushed himself up, laying the cloth of cupcakes between his legs. Neville still had his lit wand with him and the light glided over one of Harry's boney arms.

Neville had just been in the act of snatching a cupcake when he drew his hand back.

"On second thought, you need it more than I do." whispered Neville, backing away.

"Don't be silly, take one." breathed Harry, holding one out to Neville.

After a moment's hesitation, Neville took the cupcake.

"Are you alright, Harry? You don't look well," whispered Neville, lowering his wand when he realized he was analyzing Harry's thin physique too closely.

"_Ugh_, Neville, go to bed," grumbled Ron as he tossed for a new position in his bed.

Harry nodded at Neville, both to quell his concern and to encourage him not to wake any of the others. Neville extinguished his wand as he was returning to his bed. He hissed when he smacked his knee against the bed frame while getting beneath his covers. Harry laughed quietly while he forced down the remaining cupcakes. As he struggled to find a comfy and warm place to slip into sleep, Harry wondered how difficult the following day was going to be.

Harry awoke shivering. If it were truly cold enough, he doubted he wouldn't be able to see his own breath curling before his nose like smoke. Harry placed his glasses on and sat up, realizing he and Ron were the last to get ready for class. Ron, however, was at least dressed.

"Finally, you're up, mate!" he sighed, clapping his hands on his knees from where he sat on his bed next to Harry's. "We all tried to wake you but you were out _cold_."

Harry struggled to stop trembling, "I _feel_ cold, Ron."

Ron raised his eyebrows, "Well, we had the burner on all night."

"That can't be right," said Harry as he unwillingly pushed his blankets off of him, "it was freezing last night."

Ron got to his feet and leaned against Harry's bedpost while Harry got dressed in his robe, "I know you don't want to hear this from me, Harry. But, maybe it's 'cause you've got no meat on you."

"You think I _like _being this way?" Harry rolled his eyes and secured his cloak around his neck. "Never mind, Ron. Let's just go get breakfast."

Harry was glad a few others were wearing their cloaks in spite of the September heat. Without it, he didn't think he could sit still. While eating breakfast, Harry declined anything cold that Hermione offered him. He ate warm toast, scrambled eggs, and potato slices. This seemed to satisfy Hermione. After the close call a week or so ago, she wasn't keen on testing how far to push Harry.

"Good morning, Potter," drawled Draco Malfoy as he, Crabbe, and Goyle passed behind Harry. "Make sure you strap yourself to your broom. We wouldn't want you to get swept away in the breeze."

Harry felt Ron and Hermione's eyes on him, making sure he remained calm. He swallowed his anger, along with a bite of toast. To Harry's surprise, and secret delight, Ginny made her way down the table to join him at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron tense up. Harry also noticed that Ginny was revealing a clothed item of her own.

"Hey, Harry." Ginny smiled, blushing a little. "I noticed that you didn't eat much last night. So, I saved you a slice of warm carrot cake." She opened the cloth like rose petals, "I heated it back up for you. I hope it tastes just as wonderful as it did last night."

She slid it onto his nearly finished plate.

Harry smiled begrudgingly down at her, "Thanks, Ginny. That's a nice thing of you to do."

However, Harry knew that eating this generous slice would test his gag reflex. He was full from the eggs, toast, and potatoes. Ginny stayed by his side, chatting with Ron and Hermione. Harry had a feeling that she was secretly staying to make sure he ate all of it. Feeling like a burden, he forced himself to eat the whole piece of cake.

After a moment, Ginny casually slid her hand beneath the table and placed her hand on his thigh beneath his cloak. Harry remarked sadly that she could touch one side of his thigh with her middle finger and the other with her thumb. She squeezed him gently before getting up to rejoin her friends.

Harry leaned a little in to be closer to Ron and Hermione, "You guys are going to rot my teeth out before any of this sticks to me."

Hermione smiled at him, but drew her eyebrows in with concern. Ron, however, seemed to be just glad that his sister had left. Harry suspected that Ron was picking up on Harry's growing feelings for Ginny. He was just feeling protective ... and a little overbearing. The Great Hall was beginning to empty. Harry wasn't feeling too great. The sugar from the cupcakes last night and the cake at breakfast weren't doing wonders for his nausea. He hid it as well as he could as he followed Ron and Hermione out of the Great Hall.

2


	4. Life in Jeopardy

While Ron went to join Neville for potions, Harry led the way to Transfiguration with Hermione. It was unusual that they would be separated this way. As they rounded the last corner at the top of a staircase, Harry noticed a group of unfriendly Slytherins gathered near Professor Megonigal's classroom. Hermione shared his annoyance when he pointed out that Malfoy was in the group.

"This should be fun," said Harry dryly as he leaned against the wall by the classroom door.

Hermione stood in front of him and opened up her Transfiguration notebook. Harry noticed with amusement that she had already taken notes from the text book. Some things will never change. Hermione noticed him watching her and smiled, blushing.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, turning so that all he'd see was the top of her head.

Harry smiled, "Nothing. I'm just glad that certain things never change."

Hermione walked around to lean against the wall by his side. She leaned her shoulder and head against him. Harry knew it couldn't be that comfortable because of his boney arms. But, Hermione didn't seem to mind - or didn't want to hurt his feelings. Harry leaned his head against the wall and was about to close his eyes but Malfoy caught his attention. He was laughing with his friends and Harry had a bad feeling that it was about him.

"Hey, Granger!" called Malfoy; Hermione didn't look up. "Don't break him in half. He doesn't look like he can support a bird's nest."

Harry clenched his jaw and straightened up but Hermione tugged on his cloak, "Harry, please, don't give him what he wants."

"What did you say about her?" growled Harry, making his way over to Draco.

Draco held up his hand in a mockery of surrender, "Hey, tough guy, I was just looking out for you. Wouldn't want you to snap in two."

"Yeah, but, I'd like you to." said Harry, glaring down at him. "You can pick on me all you want. But, leave my friends alone. You don't realize how ironically lucky you are."

Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, "Yeah? Why's that, Potter?"

"Although your parents are criminals, at least they care enough about you to keep you plump," said Harry.

Hermione came up behind him and tugged on his cloak again, "Come on, Harry."

Draco laughed at Harry, "I see that you've still got your nerve."

Harry's stomach suddenly churned and he lurched a little. Hermione grabbed his arm to keep him upright.

"What's the matter, Potter?" taunted Malfoy, "Got a belly ache?"

Before Harry or Hermione could react, Draco punched Harry in his gut. Harry staggered, feeling his stomach contents rising up his throat with the impact of Malfoy's fist. Despite his growing nausea, Harry forced his mouth shut and made himself stand up.

"How dare you?" yelled Hermione, wiping out her wand.

Malfoy actually seemed scared.

With one hand still clenching his taut stomach, Harry placed a trembling hand on Hermione's wrist, "Don't, you'll get detention."

"I don't care!" said Hermione.

"I'd listen to Potter, Ms. Granger," said a deep voice from down the hall.

Harry straightened up and backed away with Hermione as Snape reached his door. He caught Harry's eye and for a moment Harry thought he saw a sign of concern flicker across those hateful black eyes. Harry looked away as his stomach throbbed again.

"Is it happening again?" asked Hermione as quietly as possible while the rest of the class filed in to the classroom.

Harry realized that he was shaking all over in intervals. He was still cold. He pulled his cloak up over his nose to try to make his face warm.

Harry nodded his head, "But, I think I can handle it."

He was lying. He had tasted the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth.

Hermione seemed to doubt him, "Tell me if it gets worse. I'll take you to the hospital wing."

"Snape wouldn't let me go there even if I lost my leg," said Harry, trying to make her laugh.

Hermione took his hand, "He'll have to take off mine to make us stay."

Harry took one step and barely hid the agony that spread from his stomach to his throat. Hermione led him to a table at the back of the classroom. Harry dropped into his seat and couldn't help but groan at the quick movement.

"Harry, _please_, let me take you," begged Hermione under her breath.

Harry placed a hand over his stomach and was scared of what he felt. His stomach was distended as far as his skinny waist would allow and it felt quite hard. He felt Snape's eyes on him but refused to look up unless he was called upon. He was just focusing on breathing evenly and slowly, trying to slow down his heart. The nausea seemed to be subsiding, then it would intensify again.

On the last interval, Harry started to see black spots pop in his vision. He watched something drool out of his mouth, which was apparently hanging open without him knowing before ... it was blood. He felt his heart begin to race again. He hadn't felt this scared since the first scare back at the Burrow.

He weakly tried to grip his fingers around Hermione's wrist while saying thickly, "_Her_..._mi_..._one_."

She looked at him in the eyes, fear flickering across her eyes. He groaned and slipped off his chair before Hermione could react. He smacked onto the stone floor, unconcious. The room erupted in gasps and stools scraping across stone tiles as students got up for a closer look. Hermione loomed over Harry and laid her head on his chest, listening for a heart beat. There was one.

"What happened, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, but he seemed bored to Hermione.

Hermione glared up at him, "He needs to go to the hospital wing. I should have forced him to go earlier."

"You'll miss the lesson," said Snape jeeringly.

Hermione secured her hands underneath Harry's armpits, "I think I'll survive. I learn more from reading the book anyway."

Snape raised an eyebrow. Hermione thought he was going to dock points for her jab. But, he just told two strong-looking Gryffindors to help carry Harry to the hospital wing.

"Don't you die on me, Harry!" begged Hermione as she started to cry, shoving the door open and held it open for the boys to get through. "Don't you die!"


	5. Hospital Wing

Harry peaked open his eyes but was blinded by the candle on his left. He flinched again when, where ever he was, the room erupted with voices.

"He's awake!" said Ron's voice.

Harry felt a small hand stroke back his unruly hair, "Harry, say something!"

That was definitely Hermione. He could smell Ginny's perfume in the air. He knew she had to be somewhere nearby.

Harry lifted his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, "My glasses ... where are they?"

He felt the familiar thin metal that held his glasses to his face touch the back of his hand. He blindly gripped them and put them on. Harry opened his eyes now, although it was more like a squint because he was adjusting to the light. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and surprisingly Neville were seated around him. Madam Pomfrey was hustling over to him. Harry tried to scoot himself up into a sitting position but felt his stomach was a bit too heavy.

"Mr. Pottter, you need to lay down." said Madam Pomfrey, pushing Harry back down on the bed. "You're in the hospital wing."

Harry blinked over at Hermione, "What happened to me?"

Hermione bent down on one knee, running her hand up and down his thin bicep, "You -"

"Fainted," Ron finished the answer for her, horizontally clapping his hands together to imitate the sound of something falling on the ground.

Hermione shushed him with a single look, "I was going to say 'passed-out'." She turned back to Harry as Ginny spoke up.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

Harry snaked his fingers beneath his glasses to rub his eyes again, "Like there's a bowling ball inside me."

"Ms. Granger and Ms. Weasley have informed me that you took a potion a little more than a week ago, is that correct?" asked Madame Pomfrey.

Harry frowned up at her as he propped himself up on his elbows, "Why do you ask?"

"We're trying to figure out what sealed your pyloric sphincter," replied Madame Pomfrey.

Harry didn't like the sound of that, "What's a -"

Hermione squeezed his arm to draw his attention back onto her, "We think the potion may be closing more than just your ruptured stomach. Over the last week, we're guessing that it started to close up all the entrees and exits in your body. It was an accident."

Harry rubbed his boney chest, "That could explain this heart burn."

He cleared his throat into his fist.

"You just never catch a break. Do you, mate?" Ron smiled sympathetically.

Harry then became aware of the bandage around his left elbow, "I don't remember getting that."

Hermione spoke over Madame Pomfrey who had opened her mouth to explain, "We couldn't wake you. So, Madame Pomfrey had to inject the remedy into your vein. "

Harry leaned back against his pillow. He felt so weak and his heart was beating quite fast to try to warm him. Harry buried himself up to his neck in his blanket. He wouldn't be surprised if he could see his own breath since he was so cold.

"I'd also like to know why you've lost so much weight, Mr. Potter." continued Madame Pomfrey before Hermione could interrupt her.

Harry felt his pale cheeks flush and he covered his eyes with one of his boney hands in exasperation.

"You are dangerously underweight. This is what may be the cause of why the potion Mrs. Weasley gave you is malfunctioning."

Harry lifted his hand off of his face and looked up at the nurse, "It's just the way I'm built. I've always been thin."

"Not _this_ thin, mate." disagreed Ron, scooting closer to Harry. "I could knock you down with one blow."

Harry glared over at him from where he was laying his head, "You're not helping."

"I'm trying to," said Ron quietly. "Don't you get that? We're not here to embarrass you, Harry. We're here to _help _you."

"I'll be fine, Ron." said Harry, turning away as anger bubbled up his throat.

Being taken cared of was an alien concept to Harry. Maybe it was because he was so used to being on his own every summer. Harry always looked out for himself. He felt embarrassed having to stay here. He felt ashamed that he was in such a poor body condition. He redirected his frustration with those who loved him and surrounded him when he was ill to his aunt and uncle. If they just allowed Harry to have decent meals, maybe this would never have happened.

Harry turned to look back up at Madame Pomfrey, "When can I go?"

Madame Pomfrey filled his glass with water spouting from her wand, "Once you have a bowel movement. Then we'll know you're better."

Harry pulled his pillow out from under his head and placed it on his face, officially humiliated.


	6. Vindication

Harry was on lock-down in the Hospital Wing for three days straight. It would have gone more smoothly if his friends stopped coming by to check on him. Harry didn't like being taken cared of. It was a strange feeling, a _helpless_ feeling. He was so sick of it that he lied when Madam Pomfrey asked him for the umpteenth time if he was sure that he could handle this on his own.

He only gained around a pound or two over those three days. He tried to convince Madam Pomfrey that he was so thin because he tended to 'twitch'. Whenever he was sitting, at least his foot or his leg was bouncing. If he had something in his hands, he was playing with it. He'd rather stand than sit and he could likely be found pacing rather than standing stalk-still.

He walked as fast as he could without running when Madam Pomfrey finally discharged him with a request to come for a check-up in a week to see if he can remain on the right track on his own. Harry caught sight of his reflection in the window behind which the sun was setting. His cheeks were still sunken inward, his cheekbones jutted out, and his chin still looked very sharp. At least the dark circles under his bright green eyes were fading. This was thanks to how much rest he got to catch up on while in the Hospital Wing.

He often pretended to be asleep so that he wouldn't have to discuss his failing health with motherly Hermione or even Ginny. Harry stopped short at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"_Fall's Leaves_," Harry said to the woman eating in the portrait.

The Fat Lady turned to look at him, "Goodness, Mr. Potter. I'd give you this chicken leg if I could," she held it out pointlessly. "That's not the new password. I'd go find someone in the Great Hall who knows it. Eat a lot while you're there."

Harry closed his eyes, reigning in what little patience he had left so that he wouldn't explode at the portrait, "You know that I'm a Gryffindor. Can't _you_ just tell me? I've been ... sick."

The Fat Lady observed him for a moment too long, "Well, you still look like you are. I'll make an exception for you, Harry Potter. The new password is '_pumpkin seed'_."

The portrait swung inward and Harry grumbled, "Thanks."

He stepped high over the threshold and entered the common room. He couldn't believe his luck - the entire room was empty. With a sigh of pleasure, Harry sank down onto the couch opposite the hissing fire. Crookshanks, Hermione's orange Persian cat, hoped onto the cushion beside him and ran the side of his ugly face against Harry's limp arm. Harry lifted his head up off the top of the couch and looked down at the mischievous cat.

"Hello, there." he cooed at him while scratching behind the cat's floppy ear, "You don't think I'm too thin, do you?"

The large cat stepped onto Harry's lap and curled up on his concave stomach, his purrs warming Harry up along with the heat of the fire. Harry leaned back to look around the corner at the back of the Fat Lady portrait. Judging by how dark it was getting outside, the students must all be eating dinner at the Great Hall.

Harry grumbled at the sleeping cat, "Everyone keeps asking me 'what's wrong with you'? I think this is just the way I was born and they just can't accept it. What do you think?" Crookshanks just purred on in his sleep. "Sure, the Dursleys starved me more often than not. Maybe I'm just in denial. Maybe I have been abused and _I _just can't accept it."

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him and craned his neck to get a better look without waking the cat. His legs looked awful. He wondered how those long twigs could take even his low weight without snapping. His black school pants hid them until he took a step forward or, in this case, hung down to reveal their real shape. Harry tugged his baggy sleeves up over his boney hands just as the portrait swung inward and students began filling into the room.

Ron and Hermione arrived side by side and Hermione's motherly dark eyes immediately fell on Harry. She tugged on the hem of Rom's shirt and he followed her gaze to Harry. They picked their way over to him through the crowd as though they were magnetized to their ill friend. Harry determinedly fixed his eyes on the cat and resumed petting him as Ron and Hermione sank down onto the couch on either side of him.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione cooed predictably, "You still look awful."

Ron raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes at Hermione to tell her mutely to stop. Harry closed his eyes again, begging himself not to explode with frustration. He pulled his legs back up so that his feet were planted on the ground but it didn't make his skinny legs any plumper.

"Why didn't you tell us she released you, mate?" asked Ron, thumping Harry between his shoulder blades with the heel of Ron's hand.

Hermione whispered behind Harry's head to Ron, "Don't you remember, Ron? He was sleeping _all day_ yesterday."

"'_He'_ can hear you," groaned Harry under his breath.

Hermione ducked her head low to try to meet his eyes, "Sorry, Harry, I didn't hear you."

Harry finally raised his head and laid it on the top of the couch, starring up at the ceiling. Hermione scooped Crookshanks up, who growled in protest, and held him to her chest. Harry tried to ignore how chilly his stomach felt now without the cat laying there. The fire danced in the reflection of his circular glasses.

"Look, I get it that you _care_, Hermione." Harry said quietly to the ceiling. "But, I've lived almost my whole life without a mother. I don't need one now."

He turned away when he heard her sniffle and closed his green eyes to avoid the glare Ron was giving him.

She gave a shaky breath that clearly showed that she was trying not to cry and Harry frowned at the sad sound, "If you don't want my advice, _fine_. Keep wearing baggy clothes that emphasize how thin you are. Keep skipping meals. That will definitely help you get better. What would I know? If you faint again, I'll just leave you on the ground."

Hermione got to her feet, dropped Crookshanks onto a cushion on the floor, and ran up to the girls' dormitory. Harry peaked open his eyes just in time to duck from Ron hitting him on the back of his head. Ron rolled his eyes and heaved himself back to his towering height. He bent down greatly to pull a few papers and what looked like a piece of chicken wrapped in plastic and set them on the low tea table in front of Harry.

"Just so you know," said Ron as he slung his backpack on his shoulder, "Hermione wanted to walk that long way from the Great Hall to the Hospital Wing just to give you all your homework and that chicken because we know the food tastes like shit where you were. I think you need to start appreciating us more, _especially _Hermione."

Harry listened to Ron's heavy footsteps up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and him slam the door shut behind him, making Harry feel like he had been served a large portion of guilt that made him feel so full that he had to _force _himself to eat the chicken Hermione had wrapped up for him.


	7. Haunting Memories

As Harry took a seat in the Great Hall across from Ron and Hermione, his pale, hallow cheeks flushed when he recalled a particularly embarrassing moment in the Hospital Wing. He was sipping on water and suddenly spewed it all over his sheets right in front of them as his blocked pyloric sphincter cleared away and all the food it had been closing off to his stomach was rushed into his belly. He had cried out in agony as his stomach walls were stretched painfully. When he had dared to ask Hermione why she had smacked Ron a moment later while he was concentrating on resisting puking, which was very tempting because he felt like he might explode, she told him reluctantly that Ron had joked that Harry '_looked pregnant_'. Now, Harry tried to smile at Ron but he was still full of frustration that it probably resembled more like a snarl than a grin.

But, Ron returned a weak smile then reverted his attention back to building his breakfast sandwich. Harry wanted to apologize to Hermione. They rarely ever communicated their feelings with each other well. He mostly hated how domineering she seemed when he dared confide his worries to her such as his visions about Voldemort or that his lightning bolt scar was aching. Truthfully, her words sometimes came out as soft as blades and he often got the impression that she felt like he couldn't take care of himself. Harry blinked hard when he realized that he was watching her read the Daily Prophet.

Hermione laid down the magical newspaper and rubbed her puffy eyes with the heels of her hands, "I'm sorry for the way I acted last night, Harry."

Harry had to swallow his surprise to get his voice working again, "No, I deserved it -"

Hermione covered her drooping eyes with one hand and held up the other to interrupt him, "I _have_ been acting more like a overprotective-mother than your friend lately. I can't be both. I just don't think you, or Ron, understand how much I care about you two. I'll try to switch sides, okay?"

Harry reached out to gently pull her hand off from her tired eyes, "I just need you to believe that I'll be alright ... and I'd never ask you to change -," when Hermione raised her eyebrows he added, "- and actually _mean _it."

Ron shook his head at Harry, gave a little chuckle, and gazed down at Hermione, "It couldn't hurt to tone-down the nagging a couple of notches, could it?"

Hermione elbowed Ron in his side and Harry found himself smiling, _naturally _smiling, for the first time in too long. She looked worse-for-wear, like she had hardly slept the night before. Harry mentally hit himself for keeping her up all night with his insensitive words.

Harry laughed, "I'll try to be less of an ass."

Hermione nodded and grinned, "That would be a pleasant change."

Harry gaped at her, pretending to be offended, and blocked her smile by holding up the Daily Prophet between them. His laugh faded away when he noticed that a photo of himself was in this morning's edition, accompanied by an short article. Since he was holding the paper upside-down, he turned it over to read the article, already assuming that it won't be anything flattering judging by his past with the popular newsprint.

His guess was confirmed when Hermione stopped giggling and tried to yank the Daily Prophet out of Harry's boney grip, "No, it's nothing! No! Don't read that!"

**PLUMMETING POTTER? **

_ It should be nothing new by now for Harry James Potter to find himself in trouble. However, it is new when it's a kind of trouble in which he has complete control over. Reliable sources have reported that the Boy-Who-Lived has lost an alarming amount of weight over the summer and has been falling ill easily since the fall term began. __"We're barely a week into his sixth year at Hogwarts, which is a very pivotal year for all students in his year, and he has missed about four days of studying since he collapsed in my class," __says Professor Snape, who recently has acquired the teaching post of Defense Against the Dark Arts at the historic school. _

_Although, we shouldn't forget the trauma Mr. Potter and a few of his schoolmates endured before summer break began. He was barely saved at the Ministry of Magic by his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Sirius Black is reported to have died while fighting alongside his 'beloved' leader. Perhaps this experience has put a new toll on the famous young man. Perhaps he has finally cracked under the pressure ..._

Harry couldn't force himself to read any further. He calmly folded the Daily Prophet so that the article about him was facing away from him and placed it by his elbow, barely resisting crumbling it up into a ball and chucking as far away from him as possible.

He gulped before meeting Hermione and Ron's apprehensive eyes, "For once, they're not wrong."

"You shouldn't have read it, Harry." said Hermione quietly.

Ron cleared his throat, "Well, apart from the part about Sirius fighting _with _You-Know-Who instead of _against_ -"

He grunted when Hermione jabbed his side again with her elbow again, "Harry, I know it wasn't a kind article -"

"Remind me of any that _was_," interrupted Harry, a bit of venom leaking into his tone.

"- but, the three of us know what's true from all that ... _shit_." finished Hermione to which Ron and Harry exchanged a surprised look. She snatched the paper back from Harry. "It doesn't matter what_ they _think," she pointed at the article. "This stupid reporter doesn't change what's _really_ going on."

Harry turned his eyes down to the plate of toast in front of him & they unfocused as Hermione's words sent him back to what he had said aloud for no one else to hear but Crookshanks last night. _What's really going on_? He wondered again if he was in denial about the Dursleys abusing him. Could he be strong enough to accept that it had happened? He recalled the last Wednesday he would spend at the Dursleys' before he'd Apparate with Dumbledore to the Burrow.

_It was early in the evening but darkness was already consuming Private Drive. Harry was sitting on the floor beneath his window in his small bedroom, listening intently for the Dursleys' car to back out of the driveway. They were supposed to go to a dinner with Uncle Vernon's colleagues. His uncle had been fretting about it for the past week. Harry remembered his stomach aching so much with hunger that he was beginning to feel nauseous. He was wearing baggy drawstring pants that used to be Dudley's and two big, old sweaters that Aunt Petunia had tried to dye grey when Harry was barely eleven years old. _

_ Even underneath all that cotton, he was still trembling to his bones with cold. He remembered his heart pounding when he heard the car's engine roar to life and its wheels squeak with the pouring rain as the Dursleys finally left the house. Harry had been warned to stay in his bedroom while they were gone with a single pound of Uncle Vernon's fist as the man stomped passed Harry's door. Harry twisted around and, wincing as he did so, pushed himself up on his knobby knees to check that the car was really gone. He scrambled to his feet after he watched it disappear around the bend down the road. _

_"Finally,"__ he had croaked, still quiet as though they would still be able to hear him hundreds of feet away._

_ Harry tiptoed down to the kitchen, supporting his weak muscles by grasping the railings on the stairs. He checked over his shoulder repeatedly before kneeling down in front of their fridge. He had to use both of his hands to wrench open the door because of how tired with hunger he was. Harry expected himself to pass-out at any second. He blinked blearily through the fridge's light and lunged at the first item he saw. _

_"Oh,"__ he grumbled to himself when he realized it was a small carton of a half a dozen eggs. _

_ The mere thought of hot scrambled eggs nearly sent him over the edge into unconsciousness with pleasure. But, he had to remind himself that it could mean too big of a big mess to clean up before his ... 'family' came home. He hoped they would be gone for a long time. Harry set it back carefully, hoping it wasn't a centimeter out of place from where he had lifted it, and squinted around for something he could eat that wouldn't require cooking. It unnerved him how much the arrangement of the contents inside the fridge confused him. _

_ Had it really been that long since he had looked in the fridge? His eyes fell down to the plastic drawer of fruit. He yanked open the drawer and fished out a small, yellow apple. Although Dudley had grown fit with his school boxing, that didn't mean that fruit was a big part of his diet. This apple had a few bruises on it but its coldness was what irritated Harry the most. _

_ He was having an immensely difficult enough time staying warm on his own. He didn't need to eat something cold to worsen it. His stomach gave another growl of protest and his eyes watered at the pain. Harry blinked up at the microwave oven and pushed himself back to his feet. He opened it and looked at the apple one more time. _

_ He set it inside and set the timer for only twenty seconds before pushing the START button. Harry was so occupied with anticipation of finally quelling his hunger that he did not hear the front door open and close nor did he feel his uncle approaching him from behind. He did not have enough attention to spare for when his uncle turned on the kitchen light above him. He did flinch when the little apple exploded inside the microwave. _

_"Shit!"__ he hissed, dropping to his knees and opening the microwave oven. _

_ Harry plunged his hand inside and began scooping bits of the apple into his famished mouth, ignoring the burns it gave him on his tongue and hands. After a few moments of this, Harry caught sight of the enormous shadow around him. He gazed up over his shoulder and rose to his feet as he met his uncle's glare. _

_"We forgot the gift. What didn't you understand about staying in your room?"__ Uncle Vernon had growled. _

_ Harry found himself backing away instinctively, his hands dripping with bits of apple splayed out behind him, feeling for an escape route, __"I was only hungry -"_

_ He couldn't dodge Uncle Vernon's meaty fist as it came slamming into the side of his head. Harry crumbled to the ground, unable to withstand the blow. He could hear his uncle shouting down at him but he couldn't listen to the words. _

_"Quiet, honey!"__ hissed Aunt Petunia, setting her purse and car keys on the kitchen table as calmly as she would if Uncle Vernon were only swearing at a television program. __"The neighbors will hear -"_

_ "Let them hear!" __growled Uncle Vernon as he continued to pelt his fat fists down upon Harry's head and arms. _

_ Harry hid his face behind his thin arms, his skinny hands gripping his wild black hair. He used his forearms to block Uncle Vernon from smashing his glasses. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, wincing audibly whenever a particularly painful blow struck him. His cousin, Dudley, came into the kitchen then._

_"Did he break the microwave?"__ whined Dudley. _

_ Uncle Vernon staggered back upright to gaze over his shoulder at his son. Harry peaked between his arms and lowered them slowly. The light fixture in the ceiling above him was flickering on and off as vindication bubbled up Harry's throat. _

_"What am I supposed to do?"__ Harry croaked quietly up at them all, his tensed weak muscles slackening as the adrenalin rush slipped away. _

_ Uncle Vernon rounded on him, __"What did you say to me, boy?" _

_ As his uncle's hand came down through the air once again, Harry glared his striking green eyes up at him and the light fixture above them shattered. _

_ His 'family' cried out in surprise as sparks rained down around all of them in the dark and Harry roared, __"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!" _

_ Harry had kicked his long, skinny legs out in front of him in a fit of rage, knocking over the stepping stool and bunching up the rug by the kitchen sink._

"Harry, you should go see him now." He heard Ron's voice say as though from down a deep tunnel.

Harry blinked hard up at his best mate, coming back to the present time, "Who?"

Hermione reached forward as though she was going to ruffle his hair but decided not to and let her hand swing awkwardly beside her, "Professor Dumbledor. Professor McGonigal just said he wanted to meet with you after breakfast. Didn't you hear her?"

She pointed over her shoulder at the professor disappearing beyond the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry nodded up at them and pushed himself back to his feet, feeling too full with disgust by the Dursleys to eat anything. As he rounded the corner in the direction of the headmaster's office, Harry wondered if he'd ever be able to admit to Ron and Hermione what the Dursleys have done to him ... let alone to himself.


	8. Dumbledore

Harry leaned against the dark stone wall across from the headmaster's office door. He hid his skeletal hands in the large sleeves of his cloak after trying to flatten his wild raven hair which could use a trim. If Hermione was right about baggy clothes making him look more emaciated, then his black hair must exaggerate the boniness of his face. He sniffled and rubbed his cold nose on his black sleeve before knocking on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in," he heard Albus Dumbledore's voice call from beyond the door.

Harry made to push it open and found that he had to lean into it with all his weight to step over the threshold. He flushed when he stumbled into the room and the door shut with a loud _thud _behind him that shook the portraits hanging on the wall nearest to the door.

"Have some common courtesy, Potter!" said a disgruntled past headmistress, placing her fallen hat back on her head.

Harry ignored her and focused his striking green eyes on the wood floor he was standing on.

"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you," said Dumbledore kindly.

Harry furrowed his black eyebrows and decided it was safe to look into those x-raying eyes of his legendary headmaster. He wondered if Dumbledore knew that Harry had been released from the hospital wing not more than a day ago. He smiled at the elderly wizard, wondering if his face still looked thin while smiling like it had all those weeks ago back at the Burrow.

"Have a seat," Dumbledore gestured at the chair set across from his desk. Harry sank down onto the cushion of the chair while Dumbledore continued, "I came to visit you a few days ago. But, madam Pomfrey said you were sleeping."

That must have been one of the days he had been pretending to be sleeping to avoid talking to his friends.

The smile faded a little on Harry's face, "Er, yeah. I just had a stomach issue. It's fine now. Um, how are you, sir?"

Harry glanced at the man's blackened hand which Dumbledore slid casually slid under the table once he saw that Harry was curiously and empathetically starring at it. Harry pretended not to notice by cleaning his circular spectacles unnecessarily with the fabric of his cloak, which he had to take his boney hands out of hiding for.

He squinted his green eyes blindly at his headmaster, "Professor McGonegal said that you wanted to speak with me -"

"Yes, yes, I wanted to discuss something rather personal with you. If I may be so bold, I like to think we've grown close enough to discuss such things." the old man unfolded something from his lap and laid it out on the large ornate desk between them.

Harry placed his back on and his heart sank when his eyes focused on what Dumbledore had been reading. It was his article in this morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. The headmaster watched his student's pale face drain of what little color it had.

Harry slipped his fingers underneath one side of his glasses and rubbed that eye, "I'm surprised you of all people would believe what they write about me."

Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes bored into his green ones, "I can't pretend that it didn't concern me, Harry, especially after what madam Pomfrey told me of the incident in Professor Snape's classroom."

Harry shrugged and took his hand off of his eye, "It was nothing, really. I was just tired."

"Please, forgive me for intruding," said Dumbledore gently, but he continued when Harry thought this conversation was over. "I believe you, Harry. I wouldn't blame you for being so tired. It is a lot of work for a heart to keep beating when it doesn't have adequate fuel -"

"I'm not _starving _myself," Harry interrupted defensively.

Dumbledore closed his eyes slowly and Harry fell silent, "I know you wouldn't do that to yourself, Harry." He opened his eyes again, "I just want to know who is responsible and if I could have stopped it."

Harry squeezed his eyes together and leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands, "You can't save me this time, professor."

Dumbledore let Harry simmer for a moment before saying quietly, "When did you begin to lose weight, Harry?"

Harry chuckled humorlessly into his palms, making a baritone sound, "Why is everyone so concerned with my lack of fat?" He lifted his head up and clapped his hands, "It's like they're just _waiting _for me to break in half."

Dumbledore nodded sympathetically, "Was it before or after we lost Sirius?"

Harry's face went as still as death. He warned the wizard in a monotone, "I'm not talking about him. I know you don't mean to hurt me, professor. But, please, no."

"Sirius wouldn't want you to -"

"At the Dursleys," Harry interrupted flatly. "Okay? It started at the Dursleys. Happy?"

He would have said anything, even lied, to get the conversation reverted from his dead godfather. Though, he had given the professor the truth. Harry was angry with Dumbledore for deepening that festering mental wound.

Dumbledore leaned forward while Harry sank down in his chair, "Harry, don't you see that I'm trying to help you? I don't mean to embarrass you."

Harry scoffed, "I'm not _embarrassed_. I just want to accept what happened and move on."

Dumbledore brought his injured hand out from under the table and held it up for Harry, "See this?"

"It's not easy to ignore," Harry snapped, his cheeks flushing sheepishly at his rudeness, "Professor," he added to try to salvage his manners.

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, it is rather unsightly. I've come up with a theory that I'd like to hear your opinion on."

_I can hardly wait to hear it_, Harry grumbled in his mind.

"I have a theory that one's health is directly correlated with the power within each wizard and witch," explained Dumbledore. "My casts are not nearly as impressive as they were before I lost most function in this hand. I was wondering if you were experiencing anything similar."

Harry straightened up in his chair and furrowed his brows, "I have no idea. I'm supposed to be in Transfiguration right now. I didn't get a chance to in Snape's class."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry." Dumbledore corrected him, "I'd like you to show him some respect at least while in my presence."

Harry said under his breath, "Yeah, when he _earns _it."

If Dumbledore had heard him, he wasn't reprimanding Harry for it.

Dumbledore sighed, "I've noticed that I get tired more quickly. I'd like you to tell me if this happens to you. If you can't improve your health, it may be too dangerous to involve you in my quest just yet."

Harry's green eyes widened, which was the effect Dumbledore had obviously hoped his words would result in, "What do you mean? What 'quest'?"

"I'll summon you here in two weeks time. If your health has improved, I'll tell you."


	9. Eager To Forget

As Harry trudged down the corridors and staircases to professor McGonagall's classroom, he fought hard against reminiscing about his stints at Number Four Privet Drive. However, one memory was strong enough to break through and he recalled a time when the Dursleys had no choice but to bring him along to a birthday party of one of Dudley's mates. He was fourteen at the time of the incident. The Dursleys dragged him to the celebration, where pizza was to be served. Harry had used the word 'magic' in an everyday sentence while a neighbor stopped by to speak to his aunt Petunia.

So, he had been denied lunch and was weak yet again with famishment. Outside the restaurant, there was a vendor selling ice cream. Harry remembered thinking that this worker was smart to serve directly outside this popular pizza joint. The Dursleys stopped to buy a treat for Dudley and explained to the vendor that Harry was lactose intolerant which was why they had not bought him one. Harry shared a pleading look with the vendor before following his 'family' into the restaurant.

Once the Dursleys seemed to have completely forgotten Harry existed, he snuck out of the warm aroma of food he was being denied. Harry sat on a park bench not too far from the restaurant and clutched his painfully growling stomach. He was so empty and his stomach was so concaved that he couldn't inflate it without causing a bubbling-like sensation in his belly. The vendor was just packing away his remaining treats when he saw Harry trembling on the bench directly across from him.

The man wearing a white apron glanced from Harry to the restaurant and back before walking over to the thin boy, "Are you alright?"

Harry glanced his watering emerald eyes up at the man then shook his head, saying with a trembling voice, "I'm fine."

The man hesitated for a moment longer then sank down onto the bench beside Harry, "This is not what I'd call 'fine'. Are you sick or something?"

Harry grumbled under his breath, "Sick of them."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that?" chuckled the man, observing the back of Harry's drooping head with increasing concern. "Should I call for help?"

Harry shook his head again, "I just ... need something ... to eat."

"Well, all I've got is ice cream."

Harry looked up at him, "I don't have any money."

The man furrowed his brows, "Didn't your mother tell me you're allergic -"

"She's not my mum," Harry interrupted, desperation taking-over. "Please, I need something."

The man nodded, "Alright, as long as you promise not to puke."

Harry nodded fervently, "I swear."

Harry remembered the man letting him eat his fill of the ice cream that had been left over from a day of selling. Harry had returned to the restaurant with a full belly and resumed his seat where his uncle had last seen him. When they returned home, Uncle Vernon took Harry aside in the living room away from his aunt and cousin and punched Harry in his stomach.

Uncle Vernon had pulled Harry up by his unruly black hair and snarled in his nephew's ear, "Never, _ever_, sneak around us for food again!"

Harry wiped his eyes beneath his glasses before entering Professor McGonagall's classroom, eager to forget his awful past with the Dursleys.


	10. Denial

The desks were pushed against the cavernous walls, leaving the floor with no obstacles. Harry stood awkwardly in the double-door frame, watching Ron and Hermione try to change each other's hair burgundy. The Slytherin students were dying each other's hair green. Professor McGonagall spotted Harry and beckoned him over to her. Harry skirted around the practicing students, ducking a few times when the charm completely missed their target.

"I'm sorry I'm late, professor." Harry apologized to her once he was in front of her desk.

He felt like the professor was looking at him a little too long. She was probably analyzing his hollow cheeks, reddened emerald eyes, and his dulled black hair that was for the first time wilting a little. She next analyzed Harry's boney hands and the way his cloak hung on his skeletal body.

"Skipping breakfast weakens the memory, Potter." said Professor McGonagall reproachfully. "It was I who gave miss Granger the message from the Headmaster. I knew you would be absent."

Harry shut his eyes for a moment in embarrassment, "Right, sorry."

"It is alright. You can partner with Mr. Longbottom today. He's waiting for you at the front of my classroom."

Harry fought against the urge to protest against being partnered with Neville. He liked Neville a lot. But, he hardly had the patience to deal with his friend's ineptitude. Harry nodded in farewell to the professor and made his way over to Neville. The short, round-faced young man perked up immediately upon seeing Harry approaching him.

"Harry!" he smiled. "Sorry, no one would pick me."

Harry felt his heart pang a little in sympathy, remembering always being picked last for sport teams years ago when he was in muggle public school.

He beckoned Neville to follow him, "Hear me complaining? Come on, you'll do fine."

Neville saw that Harry was still alarmingly thin and he whispered up to him, "I'll try not to hurt you."

Harry's face went stony and he pursed his lips, grumbling under his breath, "_That's not insulting at all_."

Neville frowned, "What, Harry?"

"Nothing," said Harry more clearly.

Harry and Neville faced each other with about twenty feet of space between them. Harry watched and copied the stance and gestures Hermione was practicing without incanting the charm. Neville followed his lead, trying to memorize all the steps. Harry ignored Draco's reenactments of his thin frame. Draco sucked his own cheeks in and sticking his shoulder blades out to make Pansy Parkinson laugh with him.

Harry repeated the spell Hermione was saying to Ron, "_Colovaria_."

"_Cah-lew-veh-ree-ah_!" said Neville, turning his wand in a circular motion and then pointing it at Harry's hair.

Harry felt a lock of his raven hair get yanked by the root and growled at the pain, "Neville!"

Neville looked down at his shoes, "Sorry, Harry."

Harry massaged the stinging spot on his head while watching Hermione one more time before trying it himself. He swayed his wand through the air and pointed it at Neville's head, "_Colovaria_!"

Neville's blond hair dyed to a pale shade of violet but that wasn't what concerned Harry. His wand arm ached like he had just tried to lift the Ford Anglia with it. His fingers were tingling painfully. He felt like his brain was pounding to recover from the shock of casting such a simple charm. Harry shook his arm to try to ease the aching sensation. Hermione and Ron had taken a break to watch Harry.

Hermione slanted her eyebrows upward in worry, watching Harry try to soothe his aching arm. Harry stood with Ron after class, waiting for Hermione to help Neville's hair dye blond again.

"It just seized-up," Harry was telling Ron. They were both examining his skinny forearm, the sleeve of Harry's cloak rolled up to his elbow on that arm. "Maybe I'm just imagining it. Dumbledore did tell me that something like this, the ache, would happen."

Hermione joined them at the window across from McGonnagall's classroom, "Harry, if it happens again, you should go see Madam Pom-"

Harry grumbled down at her as he shook his sleeve back over his wand arm, "I don't fancy spending the rest of the year running to the hospital wing whenever I feel a little pain, Hermione."

Hermione looked pleadingly up at Ron for him to be on her side. Ron sighed, "Harry, you should listen to her -"

"Let's just go to tea," Harry interrupted his best mate.

Hermione and Ron hesitated to follow Harry to the Great Hall then trotted up to their sick friend. Harry felt irritated by their deafening silence, "It's nothing to get all worked-up about. Okay, you guys?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Sure, Harry. Whatever you say."

"I should be able to see smoke coming out of your ears what with how much you're thinking about it, Hermione." said Harry sternly. "Please, let this rest."

"_Okay_!" Hermione whined up at him. "I told you I'd do my best not to act like a parent."

Ron shook his head, "You're not being a 'parent'. Harry, she's only scared. Sometimes ... you scare me, too, mate."

Harry increased his gate so that Hermione had to almost jog to keep up with him. But, since Ron was a good amount taller than Harry, he did not have to put anywhere near as much effort.


	11. In Need

"No, don't ignite his fuse, Ron." Hermione hushed Ron. "I don't want to upset him. Just leave him be."

Harry fought against the urge to tell them that they weren't being as furtive as they had thought. He may have poor eyesight. But, his ears work just fine. After a moment though, Harry felt sorry for how cautious Hermione was behaving around him. It was as though he was a volcano threatening to erupt.

Ever since around the time he turned fourteen, Harry had cultivated a nasty temper. He adjusted the maroon and yellow knitted hat, which Mrs. Weasley had sown for him, around his benumbed ears. Harry's heart was working so hard to keep warm that all of his extremities were bitingly cold what with most of his blood concentrated mostly around his vital organs. The nails of his long, spindly hands were purple beneath the keratin. Harry set down his Potions essay to wrap his hands around his cup of hot tea.

Hermione watched him woefully, clearly struggling to suppress the need to give Harry advice. Hermione knew he wouldn't take it even if she begged on her knees. She and Ron could both see their friend shivering in the sun's rays bleeding through the high windows of the library. She feared that her friend would not accept help until the last possible moment. Harry was scaring both of them... almost to as deathly as his gaunt face was mere ounces away from becoming.

Ron watched his best mate clutch his cloak beneath his sharpened shin. He wondered if there was any meat on Harry's face apart from the joints to keep his teeth chattering. Harry hated being watched by his best friends like this. In his mind, he was meant to protect _them_, not the other way around. He loved them both more than words could tell.

Harry wanted Ron and Hermione to be at ease about his health. If only _he _could get a handle on it. It wasn't till he felt Hermione's soft hand around his skeletal wrist that he finally surfaced from his reverie.

"Harry, let go!" She hissed, grasping the handle of the mug of steaming tea. "You're burning yourself. Stop!"

Harry glanced expressionlessly from her panicked eyes to his stinging hands. He pulled his hands away from it and Hermione set it down quickly on the table in front of him. It worried Harry that his hands were so numb with cold that he had not felt the heat burning into his pale skin.

"I have some _Essence of Murtlap_ in my dorm," Hermione said to Harry, trying hard to act more like a friend than a mother. "I'll go get it and bring it down to the Great Hall. I'll meet you guys there for lunch."

Harry furrowed his striking brows up at her, "Hermione -"

"You said you were pretty much boycotting the hospital wing," she turned to interrupt him, forcing a smile. "But, Harry, you won't be able to finish your assignments with singed fingers."

While Harry was busy borrowing a book from the librarian, Madam Pince, Hermione pulled Ron aside outside the entrance.

"He's_ so_ cold," she breathed up to her skyscraper of a friend. "Ron, it was _scary_. Just make sure he eats as much as he can manage while I'm gone. Don't offer him anything that isn't warm -"

Ron chuckled humorlessly, "It's alright, Hermione. _Hermione_, I've got it. I'll take care of it."

Hermione left him in the wake of her bushy brown hair as Harry reached his side. He kept his thin hands exposed while holding the book to his chest so that Ron wouldn't have an excuse to talk about them being hidden. But, Harry didn't count on Ron noticing how he could see too many veins through his best mate's translucent skin.

Ron awkwardly glanced away and lead the way down the corridor, "So, you never got 'round to telling us what Dumbledore wanted."

Harry grinned on the inside that Ron had something else to discuss rather than Harry's dwindling five-foot-nine-inch frame, "Oh, right. Um, it was about that stupid article."

Ron repressed the urge to point out that it wasn't just he and Hermione who were concerned about Harry's overly-thinness, "Yeah? That's all?"

"He said something about a 'quest' and that he wanted me in on it ... _someday_," Harry finished with a lump expanding in his throat.

Ron could see that Harry was bothered by this and struck up a debate with him about what the quest could possibly entail all the way from the library to the Great Hall. Harry's reddened hands were pulsing painfully and the scratchy cover of the old book he was holding only increased the sensation. In the Great Hall, he and Ron took seats on opposite sides of the long Gryffindor dining table so that they could face each other. Harry thought about reaching for a fork to serve himself some warm mashed potatoes but his close-to-blistering fingers protested against that task. He wished he was used to his stomach gnawing itself when denied food.

It made that lump in his throat expand. He swallowed with difficulty, his protruding Adam's apple bouncing up and down. For the first time in too many days, Harry was searching the cavernous room for the thick dark hair of his best friend. Ron was always seduced by the aroma of warm dishes and he was under that spell, shoveling himself generous servings. Harry was about to press his burned hands on his cold plate to help soothe the pain when Hermione arrived after walking so quickly that she had a hop in her gate.

She squeezed her way onto the packed bench beside Harry and set her book bag on her lap, fishing out a bottle of yellow liquid. While trying to quell her panting, Hermione handed the little potion to Harry and then busied herself with staring at the middle of a page of her textbook. Harry made a small smile, knowing that she was watching him in her peripheral vision.

"Thank you, Hermione." he said, his deep voice seeming to calm her nerves a little.

His politeness certainly helped. Hermione nodded and set the book down by her plate, "You're welcome. Now, let's eat."


	12. Release

There was a two hour break between Transfiguration and their scheduled Herbology lesson. Rather than staying inside and resting like Hermione had advised him to, Harry was dragging Ron out to the Quidditch pitch to fly a couple of laps. As predicted, Hermione was stubbornly attending rather than holding herself up in the library like normal. His friend may have ceased to make overbearing comments about his health. But, Harry still felt like he constantly had a guardian breathing down his neck.

All the same, Hermione was hiding her peculiar choice to join them at the field by hiding her face behind her Herbology text book. Hermione noticed, with a pang in her heart, that Harry's bones were even visible at the back of his neck.

Ron could feel Harry's frustration radiating of his best mate, "Just ignore the talk, mate. It's all bollocks."

Harry groaned, "_Ugh_, fuckin'-'ell!"

"Couldn't of said it better myself," Ron chortled, giving Harry's unruly black hair a small smile since Harry was not looking up at him at that moment.

Harry sniffled at the ground. It was a great relief to be outside in the hot fresh September air. He finally felt his body warming up and he began to relax. This could be due to the strain lifting off of his heart pumping so hard to keep him at a healthy temperature. More than half of the student body was outside enjoying the last few weeks of warm weather.

They were playing wizard chess and practicing spells that Harry doubted they were assigned to do so. All too soon the air will betray Harry and grow cold as death. Hermione sped up to walk beside Harry rather than behind him like she had and saw the glee glinting in her ill friend's emerald eyes as they neared the Gryffindor locker room. Harry had overcompensated while eating lunch with Ron and Hermione. He barely had anything to eat before going to the headmaster's office so he had gone a little too beyond what his hunger pains had demanded for.

Every bone was still ever pronounced in his rib cage, including his breastbone and protruding collarbones. So, his belly slightly bulging beyond his distended hip bones was quite an odd thing to accompany those features. If anything, it made him look even more ill. But, Harry was determined to take to the air on his Firebolt. His desire for this cathartic exercise was increasing the longer his feet remained planted on the ground.

This was one of the many activities he missed the most when away at the Dursleys'. The second that surname crept up into Harry's mind yet again his face went stony. Ron had been carrying on a very one-sided conversation with him and found that abrupt change in demeanor to be very disconcerting. After a moment, though, Harry seemed to notice Ron's reaction and forced a small grin.

"You alright, Harry?" Ron asked apprehensively.

Although Ron was more than double Harry's size, he still didn't want to provoke Harry's animosity. Not just to avoid being screamed at or being an emotional punching bag. But, to keep his best friend calm and happy.

Harry nodded as he turned his back on Ron, "Yeah, nothing's wrong."

He wished he had the nerve to tell Ron and Hermione how much what he had endured at his most recent stint at Number 4 Privet drive was affecting him. They could certainly see the harm it has done to Harry physically. If only he could just admit to them and to himself that those Muggles had brought this on him. Harry could hardly consider them to be family anymore. He learned the value of family from the Weasleys, Hermione, and some of his professors.

Especially professor Dumbledore. Relation by blood did not equal family in his mind anymore. He wondered darkly if Ron and Hermione would joke that all Voldemort would have to do is starve Harry rather than using _Avada Kedavra_. Ron turned his back on Harry as well to avoid seeing Harry's bones rippling beneath his ashen skin. Harry was glad of this. Thus far he had been keeping the stark bruises from Uncle Vernon's fists hidden even from Madam Pomfrey while he was recovering in the hospital wing.

The worse ones were on his back because very often he would get knocked to the ground by his large uncle. Harry remembered instinctively curling up into a ball to protect his face and neck, leaving his back exposed usually. He usually avoided fighting back just in case he injured his hands and consequently would no longer be allowed to play Seeker anymore. Harry stripped down to his knickers and was slipping into his Quidditch pants when he realized that they were a few sizes too large. Before Ron would turn around again, Harry dove for his belt and tied it around the waistband of his maroon pants which did not have loops to secure the belt.

He thought about simply changing back into his regular uniform but then he would have to come up with an explanation as to why. Harry quickly buttoned-up his Seeker robe and snatched up his broomstick, which seemed heavier than it usually did. Ron as having the opposite problem with his Keeper uniform. He had grown a few inches vertically as well as horizontally. Ron's muscles had grown to keep up with his extending bones so his uniform was uncomfortably tight.

Contrastingly, Harry's uniform seemed to hang off him like he had borrowed them from Hagrid.

Ron saw Harry smirking, threatening to laugh, "Don't make fun. I'm a growing boy ... unlike _some_."

Harry chose not to take offense to Ron's insensitive jab at Harry's weight issue, "Let's get flying."


	13. Repercussions

He and Ron carried the box of practice balls out to the middle of the field. Harry spotted Hermione sitting in the Gryffindor stands and that she was no longer pretending to read that text book that she likely had already memorized by heart over the summer. Harry pointed her out to Ron and he waved merrily up at her. Harry couldn't see it through the glare the sun was causing on his circular spectacles, but, Hermione was smiling down at them. She hoped that this activity would be purgative for her best friend.

While Harry was cleaning the lenses of his glasses, Ron squinted up at Hermione's new expression. She seemed horrified.

"Why is she -?" Ron began but his words were drowned out by the _whoosh _of a black and green Nimbus 2001 roaring over their heads.

Harry dropped his glasses to the freshly cut grass and Ron ducked down to fetch them while Harry squinted around blindly at who had surprised them. He would recognize that drawling laughter even if his entire world became black.

"Malfoy," he growled as he felt Ron's large hand force his glasses into his boney hand. "Thanks, Ron."

While Harry was fitting his glasses back on, a Bludger came pelting towards them and Ron yanked Harry and himself to the ground to avoid being struck by it. They could hear Hermione screaming threats and insults at the Slytherins who had apparently already claimed the field that day for practice. Harry heaved himself back to his feet, feeling like his filled stomach had been tossed around inside himself.

"What's the matter, Potter?" jeered Malfoy as he sank down on his broom to be eyelevel with them. "Looking a little green, I see. It's my favorite color on you."

"Piss-off, twat!" snapped Ron, who was still having to look down at Malfoy even while the boy was riding a broomstick.

Malfoy sneered while rising a little in the air to be above Ron's head, "I'm shaking in my brand new dragon leather boots. Looks like you'll always have your fire-crotch Neanderthal to fight your battles, Potter -"

Malfoy yelped when Ron reached up and yanked on the back of the Nimbus 2001. With one last glimpse of terror, Draco took to the skies. Harry wished he had not stowed his wand in his locker. He would have hexed the senses out of Malfoy.

"Maybe we should try again tomorrow," Ron whispered down to Harry even though the Slytherin's were tossing a Quaffle fifty feet above their heads and completely out of earshot.

Harry shook his head and Ron recoiled at the ferocious glare Harry was directing up at the dot that was Malfoy, "No, I won't give him that satisfaction. With or without you, I'm flying."

Harry mounted his Firebolt and took off from the ground with such force that Ron had to raise his arm to deflect the shards of grass and bits of dirt from hitting his face. Harry rocketed upward and burst through the Slytherins that had been circling them like vultures. It took a moment for them to realize that he had taken their Quaffle. Malfoy's widened silver eyes narrowed when Harry whooshed by him and did a hairpin turn to face his tormentor. Like a horse jockey, Harry found that he was faster when he was lighter.

But, the drawback that overshadowed that advantage was that he was weak and growing queasy. Malfoy seemed to pick up on this and Harry frowned when the blond boy gave a hand signal to one of his Beaters. That boy swung his club at an oncoming Bludger and it connected Harry with bone-cracking force. Harry wasn't exactly sure where it had struck him. All he was certain of was that he was tumbling through the air and that both Ron and Hermione were screaming his name before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Hermione pointed her wand at Harry's plummeting lifeless body and yelled, "_Aresto Momentum_!"

Due to her panicked state of mind and trembling aim, the spell only slowed down Harry and didn't stop him from smacking into the ground with a dull _thud_. Ron was already darting towards Harry while Hermione was scrambling down the Gryffindor spectator stands to them. Harry felt the ground trembling and blinked up at the blurry sky. His glasses must have dislodged during the fall. Ron skidded to a halt on his knees at Harry's side while Harry was already trying to sit up.

"No!" Ron gasped, roughly pushing Harry back to the ground. "Don't move! We don't know what's broken!"

Harry felt something thick rising up his throat and gurgled, "You've gotta move away. I'm gonna be sick."

"Just wait till Hermione gets here," Ron insisted but Harry twisted over on the ground and started convulsing as puke rose up his throat. "We don't know what's broken -!"

"Nothings ...," Harry said thickly, gasping for air, "broken!"

Hermione trotted to a halt behind Harry, "Harry, you're -"

"J-just d-don't look, Hermione!" Harry stuttered, feeling the bile flooding the back of his mouth. "Okay? I'm alright!"

Almost the second he stopped speaking majority of his lunch was heaved out of his stomach and spilled onto the ground. It was so quick that Harry hadn't had the time to move his hand out of the way and some of his own puke dripped onto his fingers. Harry waved that hand in the air as he spit the remnants of the vomit out onto the grass. Malfoy and his teammates were guffawing above them even though their Quaffel now needed to be extensively cleaned. In a split second decision, Harry chose to relieve his nausea all over their ball.


	14. Comfort by the Forbidden Forest

"Harry? I know that's you," called Hermione from down the hall.

It had been three days since the accident on the Quidditch pitch. He had a large tender bruise on his thigh from the impact of the Bludger that made him limp sometimes. Harry had been avoiding Ron and Hermione ever since. He had even been dodging Neville and Seamus. He had been stopping by the kitchens every once in a while when his hunger got too painful to ignore. Winky the House Elf was always overly excited to see him. The only times Hermione and Ron caught a glimpse of him were in class or in the Gryffindor common room.

Harry had the cavernous hood of his black and maroon robe pulled over his head. But, even that couldn't conceal him from Hermione. He was not angry with either of them. After the first day of avoiding their presences, he felt too ashamed to approach them. In fact, the sound of Hermione's voice speaking to him made him smile beneath his large hood.

Hermione bent down to look up into Harry's hood but all she could make out was his sharp jaw line and protruding Adam's apple, "Harry? Please, talk to me."

Harry nodded and reluctantly pushed his hood up off his head. Shock flickered across Hermione's dark eyes and she tried to quickly compose herself but the damage was done. Harry clenched his jaw and Hermione slanted her brows upward when she saw how much the muscles at the corners of his jaw pulsed visibly beneath his ashen skin.

"Hi," Harry croaked, his deep voice sounding gravely from lack of use.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "_Hi_? Harry, I haven't seen you in ages. Are you okay?"

Harry, whom had been scowling up at the ceiling, glared down at her, "Don't ask stupid questions."

Hermione's lips parted sadly, "What's the matter with you? Why won't you talk to us?"

Harry looked away and at this angle his jutting cheekbones stood out more starkly to Hermione, "Because I've got nothing to say."

Hermione took a deep breath, "Harry, if you can't talk to me or Ron ... who _else_ can you turn to?"

* * *

Harry staggered down the slope to the Forbidden Forest. He had spotted smoke unfurling from within the chimney of Hagrid's house and made a beeline for it. He remembered Dumbledore telling him over the years that he would trust Hagrid with his life. Harry trusted Ron and Hermione with his life, as well. But, he missed Hagrid.

Hagrid had known his parents before they were murdered. Perhaps he could tell Harry about their health, for Harry was starting to wonder if his inability to gain weight was genetic. Harry winced whenever the muscle in his right thigh throbbed periodically. Since he had been avoiding Hermione, he had forgone the privilege to ask for her Essence of Murtlap. Harry waddled up the stone steps to the hut and knocked on the old wooden door and smiled at the sound of Fang's thunderous barks from within the house.

"'round back!" he heard Hagrid's voice call.

Harry furrowed his brows in the direction of his voice and scrunched up his nose when his bruised thigh throbbed a few times while descending those steps. Harry trudged around to the back of the hut and saw the eight-and-a-half foot tall Game Keeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor tending to his pumpkin patch near the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was on one knee when he twisted around to see who had come to visit him.

What bits of his face that Harry could see encircled by his friend's unruly black mane and beard alit with joy, "Harry! You've gone bloody big!"

Harry smiled widely and was able to easily ignore his sore leg while he picked his way over to Hagrid. Once he was within ten feet of Hagrid the half-giant's beetle-black eyes squinted with concern at Harry's emaciated state but he didn't say anything so Harry chose not to be offended by it. Hagrid pulled Harry in for a much more gentle hug than Harry had been bracing himself for. Harry laid his head against Hagrid's moleskin overcoat.

Harry said into the coat, "Sorry I didn't come visit sooner."

"Don' worry 'bout it, Harry." chuckled Hagrid, giving Harry's boney back a firm pat that knocked almost all of the air out of Harry's lungs. "Let's go inside. I'll make us a cup o' tea."

Hagrid led Harry to the kitchen through the back door of his house. Fang the boarhound bounded for Harry with his great tongue lapping but Hagrid managed to restrain the hound before he would knock Harry flat on the ground.

"Jus' 'ave a seat o'er there, Harry." Hagrid said as he struggled with Fang. "Down, Fang! Not much 'appens in his life, yah know. Jus' 'bout everythin' is excitin' to him."

Harry chuckled at the sight while pulling out an overlarge chair to sit at the large circular table. Harry patted his lap and Hagrid released Fang. The large dog placed his humungous paws on Harry's seat and began bathing him with his slobbery tongue. Harry spluttered for a few moments before Hagrid pulled Fang off of him and placed a sloshing mug of hot tea in front of Harry.

Hagrid sank down into the chair beside Harry which was the largest of them all, "Glad to see you ... _survived_ the summer. 'ow was it?"

Harry took a sip of the bitter liquid and cocked his eyebrows, "I should get a gold medal or something for it."

Hagrid smiled sadly, "The sight o' you makes me wanna barge down their door an' give 'em all pig tails fer makin' you like this."

Harry frowned in surprise that Hagrid immediately guessed correctly that it had been the Dursleys who started his downward spiral, "I wouldn't object if it didn't mean you'd be chucked in Azkaban again. Honestly, I didn't know who else to turn to.

Hagrid beamed momentarily at being the one person Harry chose to confide in before his face became very serious, "Are ya' ill, Harry? Cause I've seen thestrals with more meat on their bones than you."

Harry shook his head after he took another sip of Hagrid's tea, "I don't _think_ so. I did get sick at the Burrow. But, not since. It wasn't just the food, Hagrid. They um ... my uncle ... he hit me."

Harry was withholding the incident that landed him in the hospital wing for a couple of days. Hagrid however wasn't looking for any signs of secretive behavior and nodded sadly, "Well, come by me more oft-n 'n I'll feed yah fit in no time at all. I'll pay ol' Vernon Dursely a visit one o' these days."

Harry grinned humorlessly and the two clicked their mugs of tea together. It was euphoric telling at least one person what has been hurting him. Perhaps this was a step closer to being able to tell his two closest friends whom he thought the world of.


	15. Strength In Numbers

Before Harry had departed from Hagrid's hut, the game keeper said something that echoed in Harry's ears long after, "'Tis nothin' yah can't handle, Harry. Yer meant for grand things, yah are. No amount o' hurt can stand in yer way."

Harry found it much more difficult to trudge up the steep hill than to stagger down the slope. His thigh was throbbing more than ever. It felt like a knife was wedging into the muscle there. It was a miracle to him that he managed to reach the courtyard without collapsing. His wounded leg was positively trembling with the effort to keep moving let alone support his weight no matter how dangerously low it was.

Harry didn't have enough thought to spare for worrying about how Hermione and Ron would react to his appearance. Almost all of it was centered on how much pain he was in. Night had fallen by the time that he slipped back into the castle. Harry found a secluded corner behind a armor and rested his forehead on the cold stone wall. He stood there for a few moments, waiting for the pain in his thigh to let up.

But, he had to keep moving when he heard a flock of third years coming his way. Harry tried his best to hide his limp as he made his way down the Gryffindor dining table in the Great Hall. But, as he was lowering himself down onto the bench beside Hermione his hurt leg betrayed him and he dropped onto his seat with a dull _thud_. Hermione glanced at him briefly then tore her eyes back to the assignment she was pouring over.

Harry's hollow cheeks were emphasized by the shadows cast by the flames of the candles suspended in the air above their heads. He chanced looking down the packed dining table and caught Ginny's eye. She smiled worryingly at him and mouthed 'hi'. Harry nodded at her then rolled his overlarge sleeves back to start serving himself some dinner that his stomach was trembling for. He ignored it when Hermione and Ron exchanged a significant look, determined to make amends with them.

"I went to visit Hagrid," he told them as casually as he could manage.

Ron's blue eyes met Harry's, "You could've asked us to come along."

"No, he wouldn't have wanted us there, Ron." said Hermione flatly without looking at either of the boys. "He doesn't need our help."

Harry's face fell, "I'm always going to need you two."

"You've got a funny way of showing it," snapped Hermione.

Harry felt his throat go dry. He had hoped that by merely joining them at dinner that the fight he had started would end. Ron seemed to choose Hermione's side and gave Harry a scowl. Harry sighed, "I'm in trouble."

Hermione finally looked up at Harry, "_Really_? What's it over this time?"

Harry looked at her imploringly, "I'm sorry."

"You're not going to tell me about it, are you?" she asked quietly.

Harry rested his head on the palm of his free hand while stabbing at his meatloaf with a fork, "I think I can handle it."

Hermione shared a look with Ron before closing her eyes as though begging for patience, "Harry, I can't tiptoe around this anymore. You look dreadful, you're getting behind in course work, and you won't let us help you. We deserve an explanation."

Harry nodded as he contemplated a bit of meat at the end of his fork, "I know you do."

Hermione parted her lips in surprise, "How bad could it be? We can help you, Harry. That's what friends do."

Harry raised the fork to his lips then set it down on his plate with a _clang_, "I just don't know how I'm supposed to be this 'chosen hero' when such things can bring me down."

Ron spoke up, "You're not gonna get there any faster with your mouth shut, mate. You're just one person. You put too much on yourself."

Hermione seemed impressed by Ron's words, "Harry, I can grovel at your feet till I'm blue in the face. But, I can't do that anymore. If you won't confide in us, at least eat a decent meal. Listen to me, you can't afford to lose any more weight. You won't do the world much good dead."

Harry's black eyebrows hitched upward momentarily at her frankness. He turned his attention to his plate and forced down the meatloaf with vegetables. He felt like he was chewing rubber but he wanted to relieve some of Hermione's worries about him. Now that he was seated, his leg felt much better.


	16. Secrets Are Cold To Keep

Harry settled beneath his blankets, pulling them up over his ears like Hermione had 'casually' mentioned at dinner. She had gone into a brief monologue of how heat escapes through ears and feet. Harry had gone to bed wearing holed socks, hand-me-down drawstring pants of Dudley's, and a long-sleeved shirt. Ron and the rest of the boys in the dormitory, however, typically went to bed in just their trousers. It was September and sweltering outside.

So, Harry's request to use the furnace at the center of their room had been vehemently shot down. He stared out through the blurry window between his bed and Ron's after setting his glasses on his nightstand. Ron dove onto his bed, shaking the floor a little with his weight hitting the old bed frame, and hugged his pillow to his face.

Harry glanced at the hazy outline of his best mate. His thigh was starting to feel better, although the green-purple bruise had yet to fade away. One thing that had been plaguing him at night was that his fatless body ached if he laid in one position for too long. A night or two ago, Seamus had chucked his pillow at Harry when his incessant tossing and turning woke Seamus up. Ron heaved himself out of bed to change into his drawstring pants. Harry turned his back on him and played with a stray thread of his pillow.

Over his shoulder, Ron parted his lips as though he were about to speak to Harry. But, after a moment of hesitation, he closed his blue eyes sadly and returned to his bed. Harry waited for a few moments before turning onto his back again. He closed his emerald eyes because it was no use starring up at the ceiling when the blurriness gave him a headache. Harry felt weak with tiredness. But, for once, he was going to sleep with a full stomach.

Hermione had discreetly, and platonically, given Harry a kiss on his boney cheek before turning to the girls' dormitories. Perhaps this was what Ron wanted to lash out about at Harry. But, Harry was completely in the dark about Ron's annoyance. Ron was fuming about it a few feet away from Harry. After about an hour of scowling up at the ceiling, Ron heard slow shuddering breaths coming from Harry's bed. He rolled his eyes and turned to face his ill friend.

Harry had fallen asleep laying on his back and Ron furrowed his brows in empathy when he saw that his friend was shivering.

Ron sighed angrily, "You better damn well eat or Hermione'll force a feeding tube down your throat. Fair warning, mate." Harry answered with a tremble and Ron could have sworn that he had heard a faint groan of pain escape through Harry's dry lips. Ron snatched his wand off of his nightstand and pointed it at the little logs in the furnace at the center of their room, whispering, "_Incendio_!"

The wood ignited in the furnace and Ron placed his wand back on his nightstand. The kiss on the cheek meant nothing. He needed to worry more about Harry than his feelings for Hermione. Ron fell asleep before Harry stopped shivering.

* * *

Harry awoke to the rising September sun glaring through his eyelids. He squinted at his hand reaching out for his glasses and was surprised when he felt them be pressed into his palm by someone with large hands.

"It's ridiculous that you still tape these things back together," Ron chuckled. "I thought Dudley grew out of using you as a human punching bag."

Harry felt his throat go cold at Ron's words while he placed his glasses on. He sat up to face Ron sitting on his bed across from Harry.

"Yeah, _he _did." said Harry, his voice groggy with sleep.

Ron clapped his hands on his knees, "If we hurry breakfast'll still be warm. Com'on, get dressed."

When Harry remained sitting, his skeletal hands on his boney knees, watching the floating dust illuminated by the sun bleeding in through the small window, Ron sank back down on his bed. Ron glanced between Harry and the window, "Want to go practice today?"

Harry shook his head and, although he had acknowledged the question, Ron felt like Harry was a million miles away from him. Harry tested the strength of his thighs and hissed at the ache in his thigh. Ron nodded, "Leg still bothering you?"

"Least of all," Harry chuckled humorlessly, finally meeting Ron's concerned blue eyes. Harry cleared his throat, "Um, can I room at the Burrow next summer?"

Ron frowned, "You do _every_ summer after staying with the muggles' -"

"I don't want to talk about them," Harry said with a shake in his voice. "I can't." After looking into Ron's pleading stare, Harry continued in a rush, "I can't go back there. I _can't_."

Ron now looked a little alarmed, "Where? What, to the Dursleys?"

Harry felt his eyes watering traitorously and turned to scowl at the glare of the sun's rays. After a few moments of silence, Harry locked his eyes onto Ron's, "For their sakes, they best stay the hell away from me. I'll be seventeen soon and the Trace will be gone."

Ron leaned back, "Harry, I know they're a bunch of barking tossers. But, I thought things were mending there."

Harry scoffed and squeezed his eyes shut to dry them. He shook his head, "No, Ron. I'm just better at hiding ... it."

"Hiding what?" Ron asked but was interrupted by someone opening the door to their dormitory.

"I've been _waiting_," whined Hermione indignantly as Ron twisted around to see her. "Com'on, you two. It's a new day."

Harry smiled at her, glad that she had forestalled him spilling his secret to Ron. His hollow cheeks still did not fill out even with his lips stretched in the smile. He swallowed hard as he gingerly got to his feet, "I'm starving."

Hermione fought to keep her face composed, "Breakfast finished fifteen minutes ago. But, I brought some leftovers up for you. It's down in the common room."


	17. Fateful Examination

One agonizing week later, Harry told himself not to worry as he stepped atop the daunting weight scale in the hospital wing. Word of his struggling health had reached Madam Hooch's ears and she had summoned him there to have a physical fulfilled. Before being late to his appointment, Harry had eaten every heavy thing available to him at breakfast before racing off to the hospital wing. Hermione and Ron watched him go and exchanged looks of guilt before picking at their own breakfasts. No matter how hard he tried to remain calm as the indecisive red dial trembled over the numbers, his heart refused to obey.

It pounded audibly inside his boney chest. Harry peaked open one emerald eye and looked down at the number the dial had settled on after he heard Madam Pomfrey's feathered quill scratching again on her parchment.

"That's barely eight and a half stone for you, Potter." said the old nurse with a tut-tut, "It's a wonder how you've reached 5-foot-ten-inches."

Harry stepped down from the scale, feeling the color drain from his already alabaster skin, "What does that mean for me? Can't I still play?"

Madam Pomfrey rolled the parchment up before replying, "That is up to Madam Hooch to decide. We're finished here, Potter."

Harry shuffled his feet down the corridor, aiming to return to the Great Hall when it dawned on him that it was probably over. He slowed to a halt and leaned heavily against the stone frame around a tall window. His lower lip was trembling and he was angry at himself for being sad enough to cry over losing his right to play Seeker.

Harry clenched his teeth and seethed, "No, I can't lose anything else!"

He turned on the spot and stomped back to the hospital wing. He peered around the massive stone doorframe and saw that Madam Pomfrey was in her office. Harry spotted the rolled up parchment that would decide his fate abandoned on a gurney and he made a beeline for it. He dropped to his knees and shook the parchment open. Harry fished out his wand and aimed it at the number beside _Player's Weight_.

The sickly 8 1/2 morphed into a healthy 10. Harry blew air on it to dry the ink before departing from it. The parchment rolled back to the way it had been found. Hermione and Ron frowned suspiciously when Harry sank down between them in the Herbology greenhouse with a smile on his lips.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron before saying to Harry, "I take it that the physical went ... _well_."

Harry shrugged, "I won't know till Madam Hooch gives the 'okay'."

Ron didn't seem to feel as deceived as Hermione, "Well, we need you on the team, Harry. Maybe she'll take that you're trying to get better into consideration."

Harry didn't answer. He pulled his pot closer to him and waited for instructions and tried to ignore Hermione's dark eyes burning holes into his deceit.


	18. The Weak One

Harry wondered it if had been a mistake to publicize his confidence that he will return to the Quidditch pitch. Hermione, as to be expected, was the most skeptical about this certainty.

"You seem to be in a good mood," she pointed out as they took a seat in Charms class.

Harry frowned down at her, "Is that a bad thing? Or do you want me to act all moody and tortured?"

Hermione scoffed, "_No_, I just find it a bit ... odd."

"Thanks?" said Harry gruffly as he fished out a roll of parchment, his ink bottle, and his feathered quill from his bag.

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly struggling to keep his mouth, prone to insensitivity, shut. Harry was about to masochistically goad Ron into telling him what was on his friend's mind. But, Professor Flitwik began to give instructions at that moment and Harry was forced to hold his own tongue.

* * *

Night was falling rapidly, stealing away what time that remained to Harry to take advantage of the library text book open before him. He had been last in line to use this book which was required to complete his Charms homework. Ron, Hermione, and him had to spend their afternoon waiting behind the rest of the class for a turn with the blasted book. Madam Pince kept walking past Harry, giving his unruly black hair various stages of scowls. When the clock struck forty-five minutes past eight, a mocking jingle rang out to Harry whom had barely written to the middle of his page.

"Curfew is in fifteen minutes, Potter." Said Madam Pince as she snatched the book out of Harry's boney grasp. "I suggest you return to your dormitory at once."

"I'm not finished with that!" Harry complained but Madam Pince turned her back on him and strode back to the check-out counter.

Harry sank further down in his wooden chair, internally admitting defeat. His head was intoxicated with tiredness. He rubbed his drooping green eyes beneath his circular spectacles before straightening back up in his chair. Harry angrily stuffed his half-finished assignment back into his bag along with his ink bottle and quill. Though he now towered over the elderly librarian, he kept his eyes on the ground as he hastened past her.

Harry was turning the third corner when he heard the deep voice of the Potions master, "Out of bed after curfew, I see, Mr. Potter."

Harry spun around to face him, "I respectfully point out that it's not nine o'clock yet, professor."

"Two points from Gryffindor for your cheek," sneered Snape and when Harry's lips parted indignantly, the professor added, "and another three for ... tardiness."

"What for? I'm not late!" Harry growled at the man.

Snape strode past him, "Well, I anticipate that you _will_ be at some point."

Harry wondered if steam was unfurling from his ears as he loathingly watched the man's black cloak lap around the end of the corridor. His bag slipped off his shoulder to his numb fingers and Harry slumped against the stone all at his side. Grinding his teeth together, Harry scowled out of the ornate window overlooking the courtyard below. He could feel tension mounting within his heart and he didn't realize until he felt glass slice through his knuckles that his fist had risen and thrust itself through the window. Harry's bag crumbled to the ground as he staggered back from the shattered window, gripping the wrist of his bleeding hand.

"Damn!" Harry hissed while examining his diced knuckles.

He gasped when he heard approaching footsteps and wondered how loud he had been. Harry dropped to his knees, fished out his wand, and aimed it at the jagged hole he had broken in the window, "_Reparo_!"

The shards of glass sprawled over the ground zoomed back like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle just before the footsteps grew loud.

"Can't go to bed without hurting yourself?" taunted Draco Malfoy. "Too bad your mum isn't here to kiss that all better."

"Write a letter to yours, Malfoy." Harry jeered as he scooped up his bag and cradled his wounded hand to his concave stomach. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind coming to kiss your _stupidity_ away."

Malfoy's lip curled, "Careful, Potter. I don't want to pick on the weak."

"Never a problem to you before," growled Harry as he turned his back on the mocking Slytherin, blood dripping from his hand to the floor with soft_ splats_.

He had walked about teen feet further away when he heard Draco whisper, "You're right ... _Stupefy_!"

Harry twisted on his feet and roared, "_Protego_!"

Malfoy dove to avoid his rebounding jinx. Harry groaned as an excrutiating ache ran up his wand arm. Malfoy heaved himself back to his feet and chuckled, "Potty, you don't look so good."

Harry glared at Malfoy and a crazed smile spread across his mouth, "Oh, I can do this all night!" He dropped his bag to the ground again and aimed his wand at Malfoy's legs, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Malfoy's entire body seized-up before he could protect himself and fell backwards with a dull _thud_. Harry winced at the throbbing pain in his arm muscles and stooped down with his legs trembling. He picked up the strap of his bag with his free hand and turned his back on Malfoy, "Who's the weak one now?"

* * *

Harry's arm was positively quivering by the time he entered the Gryffindor common room. His cuts had stopped bleeding for the most part. He was sure that Madam Pince would come across Malfoy and free the git. Harry was moaning and hissing at the mounting discomfort concentrated in his forearm.

Hermione's head turned to him at the concerning sounds he was uttering, her bushy hair billowing around her shoulders, "Harry? Harry! What happened? I was worried sick!"

Harry shook his head and gave her a shaky laugh while towering over her, "It's just ... _argh_! It's nothing."

Ron jerked awake in his chair by the window at Harry's outburst of pain, "I didn't snog Lavender!"

Harry and Hermione harmoniously squinted over at him. Harry hissed when Hermione took his aching arm in her hands, "How did you cut yourself?"

Harry struggled to pull his bleeding hand of her grasp but she held it in place. He chose not to tell her that he vented his frustration into a window, "I dunno ... I was dueling Malfoy outside the library. I dunno what hex he casted, but, it started after I made the first move."

Ron yawned, "Git!"

Hermione's mouth parted wider the further he verbalized his account, "Oh, _Harry_! You're going to get in so much trouble."

"Hmm, 'bout time." Harry said sarcastically and gave her a small smile. He grunted at the ache reverberating around her gentle touch. "_Urgh_! Life was getting pretty boring."

Hermione shook her head, "What am I going to do with you, Harry?"


	19. Misuse of Justice

The following afternoon, Harry cocked his black eyebrows when Draco threw him a curious look from across the Great Hall. He took a seat between Ginny and Neville at the Gryffindor dining table. As he sank down, he caught a whiff of Ginny's vanilla scented perfume and smiled.

Harry cleared his throat, groggy with sleep, "Mind if I join you?"

He could of sworn that Ginny's cheeks flushed a little before she said, "Not at all."

Harry was wearing a white flannel shirt, his gold and red Gryffindor tie, and black pants secured around his boney hips with a leather belt tattered from his most recent near-brushes with death. Though he had grown quite tall over the passing years, he had always remained a thin bloke.

Neville swallowed a head of broccoli, "Where are they?"

Harry didn't need him to clarify who were the 'they' that Neville was referring to, "They're off on prefect duties."

Hermione had not pestered him as much about his waif of a body. He had bet that it was because she was too preoccupied with reading their list of tasks aloud to Ron who had become very interested in the ancient chandelier hanging from the Gryffindor Common Room ceiling during her monologue. The corner of Harry's lip twitched while he laughed internally at how cross Hermione had become when she caught on to the fact that Ron was hardly listening.

"What is _that_?" Ginny hissed, pointing at Harry's side.

Harry had been reaching for a toast to butter when she saw a dark mass beneath Harry's thin shirt. He frowned down at her and pressed his arm to the bruise, flinching when that bruise throbbed from contact with his sharp elbow. He had grown accustomed to the bruises peppered over most of his back, courtesy of Uncle Vernon's fists and feet.

Harry swallowed and gave her a small smile, "What?"

Ginny tried to budge his boney arm away from what she had seen, "_That_!"

"Ouch!" Harry cringed away when her finger jabbed at the bruise.

Ginny looked very concerned but no one at the table, even Neville, were paying them any attention, "What happened? Did Malfoy do that?"

Harry hesitated as her dark eyes penetrated his emeralds and felt like he was being scrutinized by Molly Weasley, "Er, yeah. Yeah, he did. We had a row on the Quidditch pitch a few days ago."

"Ron said that bludger hit your leg," said Ginny quietly.

Harry bit his lip, "It kind of bounced all over the place."

He wished that all his years of lying would still hold strong against Ginny. But, she did not seem to be falling for it when she said slowly, "...okay, Harry."

Harry turned away from her and decided to clean his glasses on his shirt just to give him something to focus on rather than maintaining the terrible lie he had told her.

"Ah, food!" He heard Ron's voice coming from the blurry outline of a tall, red-headed boy appearing before his blurry vision. "I'm starved."

"Quit being dramatic," snapped Hermione as she took a seat on the bench opposite Harry and Ginny.

Harry squinted at them, "That didn't take long."

Ron sniggered, "I know this'll come as a shock. But, our little miss know-it-all made a mistake."

Harry placed his glasses back on while Hermione retorted, "I never said I was _perfect_, Ronald."

"Actions speak louder than words," Ron smirked and recoiled when Hermione raised her hand as though she was about to smack him upside his head.

Harry chuckled and Hermione raised her eyebrows, "I had almost forgotten what your smile looked like."

Harry scrunched up his nose as he spread butter on his triangular toast, "What's got Ron in a stitch?"

Ron chortled while chewing his chicken, "Hermione picked up the Slytherin prefect list by mistake. Turns out we're off-duty today."

Harry frowned and aimed his fork at the Slytherin table, "Malfoy's over there. I saw him when I walked in."

"Who said Malfoy puts responsibilities at the top of his priority list?" Hermione scoffed as she unfolded an abandoned _Daily Prophet_ from breakfast that morning.

"Guess someone freed Malfoy last night," Ron said as he took another bite.

Harry frowned, wondering why Malfoy had not told anyone that it had been him that had jinxed the Slytherin, "Yeah, someone must've."

It was then that the odd look of glee Malfoy had given Harry earlier made perfect sense to Harry now. Malfoy had told someone and he was lying in wait for Harry to be publically humiliated by being taken away by a professor for punishment. As though his thought had been amplified aloud, Harry felt a heavy hand grasp his shoulder from behind and watched Ron, Ginny, and Hermione's eyes grow wide.

"Good afternoon, Potter." said the deep and bored-sounding voice of Professor Snape.


	20. Detention for the Innocent

Harry wondered if Snape could feel the heat of his vindication radiating off of his pasty skin. He mostly kept his emerald eyes on the floor as he followed the newly instated Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, every now and then he'd shoot Snape's back a burning scowl. Their footsteps clicked sharply against the stone ground, Harry's more resonate than Snape's.

"Wonder why the Boy-Who-Lived is a mere waif of what he used to be." said Snape jeeringly.

Harry cleared his throat roughly, "Talking to yourself is the first sign of losing it."

Snape did not retort anything which made Harry guess that the greasy-haired man was trying to bait him into more detentions. He chose to swallow his insults, feeling as though it may choke him with the effort. Snape pushed open the door to the D.A.D.A. classroom and held it open for Harry to pass through.

"Wouldn't want your toothpick arms to snap," sneered Snape as Harry quickly slid his overlarge sleeves over his boney arms. "At least ... not yet."

The classroom had evolved greatly over the years Harry has spent learning in here. However, he had never seen it more ugly than it was with Snape as the professor. All the windows were shut, the only light coming from dripping candles. Harry frowned at the gruesome and crude illustrations of victims of the Dark Arts hanging all over the stone walls. He took a deep breath, to settle his spiking nerves, and followed the wizard to his desk at the opposite end of the classroom.

"Madam Pince was most terrified to find Mr. Draco Malfoy stupified on the floor after she closed the library for the night," said Snape in a bored sort of way.

Harry tensed his sharp jaw, "Sorry I frightened _her_."

Snape set down his feathered quill and squinted up at Harry, "If only you lost more attitude than weight, Potter. Never knew it was possible, but, I believe you'd put your father's arrogance to shame."

Harry sneered, "Words against my father have no affect on me anymore. You didn't know the _real _James Potter."

Snape said quietly, dangerously, "Neither did _you_, last time I checked." Harry's lip curled as the professor stood back up, "Mr. Draco Malfoy was left alone for almost a full hour on the cold stone floor. Convenient to you that he was abandoned beneath a leak in the ceiling -"  
"We were on the _third _floor," Harry interrupted indignantly. "How could there be a leak?"

"Silence!" snapped Snape. "Regardless, he was left to the elements -"

"We were indoors," Harry clarified.

"I will not tell you to hold your tongue again," growled Snape as he circled around the desk. "I can see you feel no remorse for what you did to the student -"

Harry grumbled under his breath, "Like it would matter."

"- Perhaps, you will after you suffer the same way he did." Snape said, his lip curling. "Now, I am going to paralyze you ... temporarily. I will leave you to lay on the cold stone floor for one hour. Sounds fair, does it now?"

Harry furrowed his brows, wondering why Snape was letting him off so easily, "Do I have a say?"

"No," said Snape coldly.

"Of course not," Harry sighed dramatically.

He set his book bag on a nearby desk and was kneeling down to the ground when Snape stopped him, "Stand up, Potter."

"You said I had to lay on the floor for one hour," frowned Harry, straightening back up.

Snape sneered, "According to Mr. Draco Malfoy's account of the brawl, he fell back and hit his head hard on the floor. Eye-for-an-eye, Potter." Harry was about to protest but Snape quickly wiped out his wand, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"


	21. The Final Straw

"It's supper time and Harry hasn't come back yet," repeated Hermione in a worried undertone.

Ron ripped a bite off of his chicken leg and said with his mouth full, "It's not exactly odd that he skipped a meal, is it?"

Hermione toyed with her peas in her bowl then set her fork down with a _clang_, "Snape is eating at the teachers' table."

Ron craned easily over her head and nodded, "Sure is, the twat." Hermione pulled the strap of her book bag onto her shoulder and dismounted the bench. Ron asked hurriedly through another mouthful, "Where-you-goin'?"

"I have to find him," said Hermione distractedly. "I've got a bad feeling."

Ron sighed, "Yeah, so do I. _Ugh_," he looked longingly at his plate of food before heaving himself to his feet, "Let's go get him. You shouldn't go alone anyhow. He might bite your head off again for coddling him."

* * *

Harry wasn't exactly sure how long he had been laying on the cold stone floor. But, it was long enough to cultivate bruises against the many sharp places of his spine and ribs. His eyes had closed at the moment the jinx struck him. He did not fall back like Snape had wanted him to ... but what happened next had surprised him. Snape had gently grasped Harry by his upper arms and set him carefully on the ground.

In spite of that never-expected considerate act, Harry was sure that Snape had left him there for the night ... just like Harry had intended to with Malfoy.

"An eye-for-an-eye, Potter." Snape's voice echoed in his mind.

Cold sweat was beading all over his stiffened body. For what felt like a few moments, Harry had drifted off to sleep. He could tell by the lack of light bleeding through his eyelids that evening had fallen. His stomach was growling so loudly he wondered how no one had heard it yet. Harry tried many times to scream for help.

But, since his mouth was shut by the hex, the yells were muffled by his lips. His throat was scraped from the strain of trying to be heard.

"Why would Snape leave Harry, of all his students, alone in his precious new classroom?" Harry heard Ron's baritone voice ask from beyond the heavy wooden door.

Hermione sighed, "_Obviously_, he took Harry away for detention, Ronald. He may not like Harry, but, it's not like he doesn't trust him."

Harry's yell was gargled but they seemed to have heard it. Ron shoved the door open and Harry's ears were pierced by Hermione's shriek.

"HARRY!" Hermione dashed to his side and came to a halt on her knees with Ron in pursuit.

Harry tried to speak but his lips would, of course, not cooperate. He felt Hermione brushing his unruly black hair away from his face dotted in cold sweat.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Ron asked, placing a hand underneath Harry's back and lifting him.

"Don't do that!" Hermione scolded quickly, placing an hand on Harry's sunken stomach. "He's been petrified."

Ron frowned, "Like the basilisk in our second year?"

"_No_, with a spell." clarified Hermione. "Let me try a counter-hex." Harry tried to talk to them again and the sound of it brought tears to Hermione's eyes, "I know, Harry. I know. We're here now, just hold on. _Finite Incantatum_!"

Harry frowned ... _he frowned_! He gasped and blinked up at his two best friends. He could tell which one was which, but, his bad eyesight combined with adjusting to the darkened classroom made them very fuzzy. Harry placed a trembling hand over his heart while Hermione set his glasses on correctly. They came into focus and Harry found that his emerald eyes were also welling with tears. He hoped that they wouldn't notice.

"Hey," he said with a groggy voice. Harry tried to clear his throat, congested with lack of use, "Thank you, Hermione."

Ron smirked humorlessly down at Hermione, "Guess I was right."

Hermione helped Harry sit up on the stone floor, "What are you talking about? If we hadn't heard him when we did, you would have pulled me away from the door!"

"Not that," said Ron quietly, shamefully, "Snape doesn't trust Harry."

Harry coughed roughly, "That's news to you, mate?"

Ron chuckled, "No ... just wanted to clarify my rightness."

Hermione made to help Harry to his feet and, in doing so, the back of his shirt slid up almost to his jutting shoulder blades and Harry heard her gasp, "_Oh_, my word ..."

His back may as well have been purple and blue, there was hardly room for his colorless skin tone. Harry did not immediately try to pull his shirt back down, partly because he felt faint and nauseous. He let Hermione and Ron ogle at the battlefield raging across his back. He winced when Hermione placed her fingertips on the most recent bruise from Uncle Vernon's fat knuckles.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Hermione withdrew her hand quickly. "Harry, what happened?"

Harry knew he couldn't deny them an answer anymore. With a shaky voice, he said to his hands curled numbly between his pole-like thighs, "I need to tell you guys something ..." But, his confession was interrupted by a wave of intensified nauseau, possibly triggered by the anxiety of telling them the truth, and he puked onto the ground, his hands, and his pants.


	22. Eruption

Harry staggered and bumped his barely-healed bruise on his thigh against the edge of a desk and cursed underneath his breath. Ron and Hermione watched him helplessly, not knowing whether to reach out to him or keep their hands out of striking distance.

Ron croaked apprehensively, "You alright?"

"Hmm?" Harry growled, wiping the puke off from his trembling lips and sharp chin. "Yeah ... no, no, n-n-n-no!" He rounded on them, limping on his aching leg. Harry pointed at his sunken face, "How the ... _fuck _can you ask me that! I'm not alright! I can't remember a single bloody time I have, ok?"

"Okay, Harry," said Hermione as she nervously approached him. "We _know_ you're not. How long do you really think it took us to figure that out?"

Harry scoffed nastily, "Well," he sarcastically held up six fingers. "_That_ long! And it just got worse each summer!"

Hermione nodded, tears leaking down her high cheekbones, "Did your family do this to you?"

"_Family_? What's a 'family'?" Harry's voice started to escalate into a roar, "I DON'T HAVE ONE!"

He heard Hermione ask faintly, "Then what are we to you?"

With a roar of vindication, Harry lunged forward and knocked everything off of Snape's desk with a swipe of both of his thin arms. Hermione and Rob flinched back at his eruption.

Hermione said through clenched teeth, "Harry, _stop_! STOP IT!" She looked pleadingly up at Ron, "Ron, do something!"

Ron stepped forward and hovered behind Harry, who was coughing roughly while leaning forward on the desk. Harry chuckled dryly then turned to look up at his tall friend, "Why is this happening? To me? What did I do?"

"Did you call the police?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Harry gripped his naturally spiky black hair and shoved past Ron, "I _couldn't _call the _police_, Hermione! What the fuck could _they _do? What could I tell them? 'Hey, I'm a wizard but my muggle uncle beats the shit out of me for eating food from his fucking fridge without his fucking say-so'?"

He suddenly swayed alarmingly where he stood and fell to the ground with a crash. Ron hesitated for a moment before kneeling down beside him, "Here, mate, put your arm around my neck -"

"I didn't fucking ask for help," Harry grumbled into his palms, his elbows resting on his knees.

He heard Hermione's dainty footsteps approach him and smelled her apple shampoo before she said quietly, caringly, "We heard it plain and clear, Harry. You need help." Harry sighed and she glanced up at Ron with a miniscule smile before laying a hand on Harry's shoulder, "You can't stay there anymore."

Harry sniffled and glared up at her, "Where _else_ am I supposed to go? I don't have a fucking muggle bank account!"

He didn't mean to hurt her with his scowl. He was just so filled with rage at the Dursleys that he had nothing in him to smile about.

Ron pursed his lips, "There's always my room for you to crash in. With you under our roof, maybe Mum'll have a little slice of peace of mind not having to worry about you on top of everything else."

While Ron spoke to Harry, Hermione aimed her wand at the fallen supplies from the desk and whispered, "_Reparo_!"

While the fallen debris reconstituted themselves and soared back to their original place on the desk, Hermione laid a hand on Ron's shoulder and Harry's shin, "Can you stand, Harry?"

Harry was still breathing shallowly and his extremities were trembling from the adrenalin rush. He shook his head after an involuntary body-shiver, "I think I need the hospital wing."


	23. Secrets Only Silence

Harry was lying face-down on a scratchy pillow in the hospital wing, his arms bent on either side of his head so that his boney fingers could hold up the hem of his shirt for Madam Pomfrey to lather his sores and bruises with something that she claimed was stronger than_ Essence of Ditiny_.

"I've seen less bruises on Beaters who had run-ins with their own bludgers," said the nurse, who had a clothespin clamping her nostrils together.

Hermione and Ron had been forced out of the clinic after half-dragging Harry here. The lotion she nurse was applying wasn't putrid. But, it was absurdly rich and suffocated anyone within a few yards of him. His circular spectacles were set on the table to his left.

Harry grumbled inaudibly into the pillow, "Thanks for the honesty."

Madam Pomfrey wringed her hands over Harry's skeletal back. He could feel droplets of the potion dripping onto his thoroughly lathered skin.

"Potter, look at me." the nurse ordered thickly and Harry turned his head up to peak through the bend in his left arm up at her foggy outline. "It will harden in a few moments and you'll feel a slight vibrating sensation. It shouldn't be too alarming. In about ten minutes, I'll help you turn over onto your back. Laying on your belly burdens your circulatory system ... even if _yours_ is next-to nonexistent."

Harry watched her blurry white blob push apart the curtains hiding him from the rest of the patients in the hospital wing. The draperies flapped together and Harry released his grip on his sweater. He rebelliously laid on his side rather than his front since his sternum was beginning to ache under the pressure. Harry had neglected to tell the nurse how he had truthfully received the abrasions on his back. She pointed out a few times more than necessary that the sores were located on sharp points were his bones were disconcertingly visible.

She kept reminding him that a little extra weight would solve that issue. Harry hoped she was right as he reached for the sandwich on the plate sitting next to his glasses and sunk his teeth into it. Almost instantly, his head didn't feel so light and achy. He swallowed the bread and meat in no time at all before curling up underneath the extra bed sheets Hermione had insisted on him being given. Though the bruises in his heart from the Dursleys' torment may take more than a little potion to heal, Harry had never expected to feel this relieved after letting Ron and Hermione in on the situation.

As he closed his eyes to catch a short nap before Madam Pomfrey would return, he felt like he could finally start on the road to recovery. He wanted to get better. Harry wanted to be healthy. Though he had never been, he had seen from Hermione and Ron that it was a much happier place to be in. He was free.


	24. Strike Of Vindication

The gruesome reminders embedded in Harry's skin were completely erased by the potion Madam Pomfrey had applied. But, he regretted fooling himself into expecting his heart to mend as instantly. Hermione and Ron now knowing what Harry had suffered through didn't make as great an impact on his outlook as he had hoped. He felt invisible when near them. He could tell that Hermione was picking up on his apathy towards things that should please his interest.

There was a trip to Hogsmeade to look forward to tomorrow. But, Harry was steadily losing that positive attitude that had taken over him after telling his two friends about the ... 'abuse'. He had successfully avoided Hermione and Ron, whom had been waiting for him in the common room to drag him to dinner. Harry had instead made his way to the steep roof above the Great Hall courtesy of his Firebolt. His stomach was hollow.

If he tried to inflate it, a crackling sound could be heard. His black eyebrows furrowed as he felt a drop of rain splash on his nose. Harry scowled up at the bleak clouds rolling threateningly overhead. He unfolded his legs and stood precariously on the spine of the roof, remarking darkly of how its jagged texture was not so different from his boney back.

Harry snarled through clenched teeth, visualizing his uncle's face as he glared skyward, "Think I can't take a hit?" Rain was now pelting down upon him. The churning dark clouds grumbled with a resonant growl. Harry shouted through a clap of thunder, "I can take it!"

"I took every single one! And now I can give it back!" A bolt of lightning struck at the far end of the Forbidden Forest. "They know now, you coward! What are you waiting for? You never held back before!" Harry felt his throat sting with the boom of his rage. "SHOW ME WHAT YOU'VE GOT!"

Harry's scowl faltered as he squeezed his welling emerald eyes, tears now dripping down his sunken cheeks. They were masked by the downpour of rain. His robe was weighed-down heavily with water. It was only then that he realized how chilled he was. His alabaster skin was shivering in vain to stay warm.

He was like flames straining to stay lit without any fuel to burn. Harry crossed his arms as he felt a wave of nausea overtake him. When he wretched, nothing but the acid of his stomach dripped out. Another roar of thunder came and shook the foundation of the castle. Harry found himself thrown into the air and was sliding out of control down the steep roof.

He quickly withdrew his wand from inside his robe and yelled, "_Aresto Momentum_!" Harry's plummeting slowed by a few notches but it did not stop entirely. He tried again, waving his wand recklessly as he neared the ledge, ignoring the burning ache swelling in his wand-arm, "ARESTO MOMENTUM!"

Harry fell to the graveled ground with a crash, his impact emphasized by the strongest clap of thunder. He tried to sit up but was shoved back down by a wave of dizziness. Fearing that he had struck his head, Harry felt the back of his head with a trembling hand. He realized his glasses must have fallen separately. So, when he held his hand before his face, he could only assume that the warm and dark substance on his hand mixed with shards of gravel was blood.

"Help," Harry croaked, knowing no one would hear him.

His head felt heavier than Hermione's advanced textbooks. Harry wiggled his toes to test if he had broken his spine. He sighed with relief as they curled at his command. Blood was pooling in a persistent halo around his head. Harry's striking green eyes rolled up and closed, his mouth left gaped.


	25. Saving the Unsaveable

Harry heard some pebbles dance by his ear and blinked his eyes open. Without his glasses, he might as well have been blind. He inhaled sharply at the sight of a tall grey and pale violet running towards him. Harry panicked, forgetting where he was, and tried to scramble backwards. But, a strong, deep voice stopped him.

"No, stay down, Harry! Wait till Madam Pomfrey checks you over," hissed Albus Dumbledore.

"_Professor Dumbledore_?" Harry croaked, flinching when the headmaster knelt beside him.

Inhibited by his own concern, Dumbledore seemed to have forgotten that Harry was visually-challenged, "Aha, I 'see' the problem. _Accio _glasses!"

The circular spectacles squelched out of the dark mud and splattered against Dumbledore's long thin hand. He wiped them as best as he could on his oriental robe before placing them in Harry's waiting hand. Harry placed them on and blinked till the headmaster came in to focus.

"How did you find me out here?" Harry asked, rubbing the back of his head and feeling the dried blood scabbing where he had maimed himself.

Dumbledore closed his eyes sadly, "A certain very protective snowy owl pecked persistently at my window till I followed her."

At that moment, Harry felt a gentle nudge at his sharp shoulder, "Hedwig!" The beautiful white owl cooed up at him and blinked slowly as Harry stroked her soft feathers. "Thanks, friend."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Were you out here all night?"

While still laying on the sharp gravel, Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure. Last I remember, I was ... heading to the feast." This was a complete lie and Harry suspected that Dumbledore was x-raying right through it. Harry ignored the scowl that filled Dumbledore's eyes as his rebellious student drew himself up to sit cross-legged on the ground, "Please, no hospital wing. Can't you just stitch me up?"

"I really think its best that a professio-"

Harry interrupted flatly, "I might as well take up residence in there, then? Forget it. I'll do it myself!"

He drew his wand from the inside of his waterlogged robe and awkwardly twisted his arm to aim it at the back of his tangled black hair before Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Stop, Harry." The wise old man told him gently, "It astounds me how much you resist the helping hands outstretched for you."

Harry's arm had been aching anyway so he untwisted it and played with his wand absentmindedly with his long fingers, "I wasn't offered any at the Dursleys."

"They are your family, Harry. They _are _there for your own good," said Dumbledore, frowning down at Harry. "You must stay there. It is paramount."

Harry groaned as he heaved himself to his unsteady pole-thin legs, "Well, unless you kill me and leave me to rot in that hell-hole, I'm not going back."

Dumbledore stretched a hand out for Harry to grab. Harry glared at the gnarled hand covered in liver spots and protruding veins. He sighed before taking a hold of it and using all that he weighed to leverage the tall headmaster back to his feet.

Harry sighed, becoming all too accustomed to the nausea cultivating in his throat, "I want to make this as clear as possible. I will sleep beneath the stars before stepping one foot into Number 4 Privet Drive."

Hedwig hooted and leapt up to sit on Harry's shoulder. Harry gazed once more up at the man before turning his back on him and limping towards the nearest door. If he was lucky, he could make it to the showers unseen and clean himself before facing his friends again. Harry predicted darkly that they would not speak to him. He promised them silently that if they did that, he would leave them alone. Harry couldn't keep hurting them this way. It had to end ... one way or another.

Dumbledore's elaborate robe billowed around him in the chilly morning air. He gazed up at the sun peaking sheepishly through the overcast clouds, "Your son needs your guidance, James. He won't listen to anyone else."


	26. Desperate Measures

In the shadows of Gryffindor locker room at the Quidditch pitch, Harry flipped a dark red cloth on top of his dripping black hair. He took each end in his hands and interchangeably pulled each side down to dry his hair. Raven locks had already begun to erect wildly despite the weight of the water from the shower. He had a separate towel bound around his bony waist. His hunger had subsided but he was feeling very light headed.

If Harry turned his head or stood up at a speed faster than a slug, he would hear a ringing in his ears and trip over his own feet. There also appeared to be an invisible weight against his heart. Harry patted over to his locker to retrieve his wand. The clothes he had been wearing on top of the Great Hall were folded on the bench between the walls of lockers.

Harry aimed it at his soggy black shoes and whispered, "_Exaresco_!"

His wand clacked against the tiled floor. Harry groaned, squeezing his aching forearm with his free hand. Such a simple charm took so much out of his stamina. He flinched when he heard a basket of spare Quaffles tip over.

"I wasn't spying!" said Ginny defensively, holding her hands up as she rounded the corner.

Harry was in too much discomfort to remember that he was naked but for the towel around his hips, "What're you doing out here?"

Ginny tucked a curtain of her auburn hair behind her ear as she walked closer to him, "I could ask you the same thing. No one has seen you for, like, two days."

Harry smiled weakly, "I've been around. Sure someone saw me."

"Well, your _friends_ haven't. Don't you share a dorm with my brother?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

Ginny sank down onto the bench and pulled out her wand. With barely a whisper of the incantation, the waterlogged close began to dry. Harry nodded and scooped up his pants and boxers. He returned to the shower and pulled the curtain so that she would not see him dressing. Harry unwrapped the towel from around his waist and cringed as he slid his toothpick legs into his baggy pants.

He was snaking his belt through the loops when he returned for his sweater, half expecting Ginny to have left. But, there she still sat on the bench. Only now she was eating a lemon cupcake. The scent of it made his stomach clench, painfully hungry. Harry started shivering after he wriggled into his overlarge sweater. Ginny watched him, taking bites out of her sweet almost teasingly.

This was not the sort of thing Hermione would do to him. Hermione liked to coddle and mother him ... Ginny was giving him space. He knew Hermione's heart was in its right place, but, maybe he needed a little tough love ... maybe that was all he could respond to.

"I'm gonna go study," Ginny told him in a blasé sort of way, getting to her feet. Harry gulped, wishing she would stay with him. "Coming?"

Harry nodded and bent over to retrieve his fallen wand from the floor, "What time is it?"

He followed her out of the locker room as she said, "Almost supper time. Are you gonna come?"

She looked up at him as she sucked the sticky crumbs off each of her fingers once the cupcake was eaten. Harry nodded feverishly, "I'm starved."

"If you want to tell me what's been going on, that'd be brilliant." Ginny said casually. "But, if you don't, that's okay, too. No pressure."

Harry grinned at the top of her head, "Thanks, Ginny."

"They just want to help you, you know." Ginny said to him quietly. "They can't read your mind and if you don't give hints then we're totally lost."

Harry focused on the castle turrets, "It's not that I don't trust you, Ginny. It's that ... it's complicated."

"I could keep up," Ginny shrugged. "But, I can tell you don't like being cared for. I lived in a house with six brothers. I know what it feels like to be treated like you can't fend for yourself. But, it's just plain rude to ignore people, Harry Potter."

"Yeah, I know." Harry groaned as they crossed the threshold to the grand staircase.

Ginny giggled, "_Good_, that's good. Just don't forget it. Well, my work here is done. See you at supper!"

She bounded for the stairs when her boyfriend, Dean, exited a door a floor above them. Harry scowled up at him, knowing that he wouldn't see his expression clearly from this distance. After the couple ran past him, probably heading to the courtyard to snog, Harry climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

"Good gracious, Potter!" shrieked the Fat Lady, "Is that blood on your collar?"

Harry frowned and tugged his collar to eye-level. He cursed at the obnoxious stain from where his blood had pooled around his head. Thankfully, the charm he had screamed while falling had slowed him down from actually cracking his skull. That cut must have been from a jagged piece of rock.

He straightened back up and staggered. His head felt so light and the ringing had resumed in his ears. Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, "Ugh, I can't think of the password."

"Pepper-Winkle," said the Fat Lady quietly. "Don't think this'll be a regular favor, Potter. But, you look dreadful so I've taken pity."

Harry scowled down at her, "I appreciate that." The Fat Lady nodded and swung her portrait inward for him to pass, "Thanks."

He pressed his skeletal hand to his thick black hair as he approached Ron and Hermione seated by the window, hunched over a very familiar map.

"Did you go through my trunk?" Harry asked hoarsely, recognizing the Marauder's Map.

Hermione and Ron both leapt to their feet at the sound of his voice. Hermione griped both of his arms near his shoulder and shook him, "Where have you been? Do you know how worried I was? For all we know, you could have gotten seriously hurt! What's the matter with you?" She then glared around the common room at the students staring at them. "What're you looking at? Nothing to see here!"

Most were so frightened by the prefect that they pressed their noses to their assignments. Only a few kept glancing over curiously. Harry raised his eyebrows down at Hermione, "Let go of me, Hermione. I wasn't aware that I needed to tell you where I am every moment -"

"What are you allergic to giving us peace of mind?" Ron interjected, glowering down at Harry from his towering stature.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry." Harry said quietly but firmly as Hermione dropped her hands from his arms. "I just ... I didn't know how to face you two after what ... what happened in Snape's ..."

Ron quickly wiped his chair around before Harry could fall to the floor.

Harry blinked slowly up at them and could barely hear Hermione scold him, "That's it. You can't go on like this. _Dobby_!"

Harry thought she must be desperate since she was calling on a house elf. He blinked once more and instantly fell unconscious.


	27. Turning A New Leaf

Harry frowned at how tight and warmly heavy his stomach felt. He slowly blinked his emerald eyes open. Though the room was a blur without his glasses, he drunkenly guessed that he was lying in his bed in the boys' dormitory. It took him a moment to realize that he was trembling beneath his blankets. Harry could hear fire crackling in the furnace at the center of the room and liked the fragrance of the burning wood.

Just when he got around to wondering how he got here from the common room, the dancing flames were blocked by a tall red-haired bloke. He flinched away when a cold damp cloth was dabbed at his forehead.

"_Gerroff meh_," he grumbled, turning his sunken face away from it.

Hermione, whom had taken a seat in a stool that had been set at his bedside, asked him quietly, "Harry, how do you feel?"

Harry tried to clear his throat, retching into his bony fist. When he spoke, his voice sounded more rough than the flames eating away at the logs in the furnace, "Like the wolf in _The Wolf and the Seven Kids_."

While Hermione handed Harry his glasses, Ron frowned, "Don't think mum told me _that _tale."

"It's a Grimm story. Quite nasty, frankly." Hermione explained to him hurriedly. "Harry, while you were -"

"Unconscious," Ron interjected and looked away when Hermione scowled up at him.

"I'm assuming it was you who got me here," Harry said groggily to Ron as he sat up in bed.

He groaned at his aching muscles and bones. Ron nodded and took a seat at the foot of his bed a little ways behind Hermione.

Hermione toyed nervously with the hem of Harry's blanket, "You were hardly responsive, Harry. But, you drank water when I gave it to you some in a spoon. So ... I tested food."

Harry slid his hand away from his filled belly, telling her angrily, "That explains a lot."

"You've kind of given us little options, mate." said Ron in Hermione's defense.

Harry rubbed his thin face and ran his thin fingers through his messy black hair, "So, you two violated me with," he tasted his mouth for a moment, "porridge?"

Hermione seemed to be on the brim of crying again, "You needed it Harry."

"For Merlin's sake, you passed-out down there!" Ron reminded him, indicating the door that would lead out to the common room. "Honestly, we were afraid you weren't going to wake-up! She almost got Madam Pomfrey!"

Hermione shushed him gently then gazed up at Harry, "Please, don't be mad at him. It was all my doing."

"Well, Dobby got the porridge." Ron admitted quietly and hissed when Hermione reached back to smack his knee with her knuckles.

Harry just stared at the space between his legs beneath the blankets for a moment. It wasn't right what she had done, but, she did it because she was scared. He dreaded what may have happened if she had not risked angering him. Harry cleared his throat hoarsely and patted his Adam's apple absentmindedly. Hermione joined Ron at the foot of his bed, sharing looks with him while Harry took a moment to calm down.

His head was still aching, concentrated at his lightning-bolt scar. But, he felt far better than he had back in the common room.

"He carried me here," he muttered quietly before squinting at Ron. "Should I expect more stares than usual?"

Hermione shook her head fervently, "No, Harry, we tried to make it look like you were just tired. He didn't carry you like a baby. He just wrapped one of your arms around his neck."

Harry chuckled humorlessly, "So, you _half-dragged_ me here."

Ron laughed nervously, "You walked for a bit of it."

Harry subconsciously rubbed his tightened stomach and Hermione asked again, "How are you feeling?"

He pursed his lips, "Well, I think you fed me a bit more than I would like. But, I'll be better in the morning."

Harry noticed how haggard both of them looked. Hermione's bushy hair was wilting and Ron was hunched over with tiredness.

Harry sighed, "I owe you guys an apology."

Ron clapped his knees and heaved himself to his feet, "Already accounted for, Harry. I'm gonna hibernate till winter, a-k-a Snape's class in the morning."

Harry sank back onto his pillow as Hermione gathered up the bowl of porridge remnants. He watched her leave before setting his glasses on the stool she had left behind. With only the lit furnace for light, the room was swallowed in darkness as night fell.

Ron asked Harry quietly while Neville and the rest of their dorm-mates filed in to sleep, "This'll be the first time you've seen Snape since ... 'that night', won't it?"

Harry had seen the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor around the castle, but he decided to answer, "Yup."

Hoping that his voice won't still sound like there was a cheese grater lodged in his throat by morning, Harry easily fell back asleep.


	28. Disappointing the Headmaster

His waif of a body frame still not used to eating regular meals, Harry found the breakfast Hermione had readied for him rather heavy. This concerned her, even him though he wouldn't agree aloud, since all he had eaten was two scoops of scrambled eggs and a few buttered biscuits. Ron had eaten far more than that. But, he wasn't staggering into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room like his underfed friend was. Harry winced with his hand over his stomach as he delicately sank onto his seat beside Hermione.

He knew that she had a few snacks stashed in her book bag that she was preparing to force on him in a little while. Harry knew he should be grateful for her taking charge of his health, but, the idea of forcing down any more food made the breakfast already in his stomach feel even heavier. Snape seemed to revel in the scowl Harry was fixing on him throughout the lesson. The professor's illegal form of detention would remain within these walls. Harry didn't have the stomach to tell anyone else beyond Hermione and Ron that he had been abused yet again.

At least, this time it wasn't by a muggle. When the clock struck eleven in the morning, Harry ducked away from his friends to give Snape the note Hedwig had delivered to him at breakfast. It was a letter from the headmaster, inviting Harry to his office at this time. Harry did not say a word while Snape read it. Those dark eyes glanced into his once he was done and Harry took that to mean '_you've escaped further torment for one more day, go_'. As he past Hermione and Ron, she forced a biscuit into his hand.

"I know this is tough," she said quickly before Snape would see. "But, Harry, you need to _push_ yourself."

Harry repressed the urge to chuck it at the back of Snape's greasy head and slipped out of the classroom before temptation struck again.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore thought he had seen hexagons with less angles than those sharply defined on Harry Potter's face by the complete lack of fat there. However, there was a slight glint of life sparkling in those striking green eyes of the boy's. Dumbledore noticed that Harry's hands were a bit dirty with flaky crumbs and slick with butter. Harry's gingerly gate was alarming to him. The boy seemed to be years older than he really was. It astounded Dumbledore to recall that Harry was only sixteen.

The five-foot-nine boy took a seat across from the headmaster before his knees would surely buckle underneath him.

* * *

Harry scoffed, "Well, I guess I've fallen a bit short of fulfilling your health-demands, sir."

Dumbledore eyed him critically, "I was going to disregard that. But, since you brought it up, you look even worse than you had two weeks ago. Perhaps falling from the Great Hall roof has something to do with it."

Harry pursed his lips and chuckled humorlessly, "Actually, it might have something to do with my friends force-feeding me in my sleep last night. So, you've got your wish. I'm fit to burst with food at the moment."

Dumbledore sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to win this particular row, "Harry, I feel I owe you an explanation for why it's so paramount that you return to Number 4 Privet Drive."

Harry nodded wryly, "That would be most _enlightening_, professor."

"It ties in with your mother's sacrifice," Dumbledore began, the resulting eyebrow-lift on Harry's face was pleasing to him. "When Lily Potter gave her life for you, she casted a spell that will protect you till your seventeenth birthday ... from Lord Voldemort."

Harry nodded mockingly, "You know what, professor? Tom Riddle isn't exactly my biggest worry at the moment and ... what does this have anything to do with the Dursleys? My mum did not die in their house -"

"That powerful enchantment will keep you out of the Dark Lord's reach wherever you consider to be home," interjected Dumbledore. "This is why you must go back -"

"Number 4 Privet Drive is not my home, professor." said Harry angrily. "It never was. If I had a home ever, I'd say _this _castle was my address. If that can't be, then I'd pick the Weasleys' house! I'd pick the sewers before even _thinking _that the Dursleys were my family let alone that their house was my home!"

Dumbledore nodded fervently after Harry burst into a coughing fit. The boy's voice sounded very rough, like a cold was closing in on him, "Harry, don't you understand how important it is for you to return to the Dursleys? I'm only thinking of your well-being."

Harry scowled at him, "Professor, if you care at all about my 'well-being' you will not force me back to them."

Silence suffocated them in the room. It was the loudest quietness Harry ever had the displeasure to have contributed to. He wasn't sure if he had won the argument ... then he realized it didn't matter. Harry would run away the first chance he got it he was ordered to stay at the Dursleys.

"I can see that you're exhausted, Harry." said Dumbledore warily, "I think you need to rest. I'll tell you soon what my quest is soon. I'll give you another week to recuperate. I'm not expecting great results ... but an old man can still have hope."


	29. The Weight of Deceit

Maybe it was just paranoia. But, Harry wasn't about to let himself go under the impression that Madam Hooch believed that this skin-and-bones-five-foot-ten sixteen year old weighed ten stone. He got this impression when she read that part of his physical-report more than once. Standing beside Ron was not flattering to Harry's thin frame. Ron was over six feet tall and definitely weighed ten stone, maybe more.

He wasn't as stocky as his twin brothers were. But, Ron had filled out with dense muscle over the years. Harry envied his friend though he would never tell him that.

* * *

"Judging by your moods, I'm taking the first meet went well." said Hermione bitterly as Harry and Ron collapsed in separate chairs in the common room.

Harry was still trying to catch his breath, "Don't get too excited for me. You may hurt yourself."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I'm trying _so hard_ not to coddle you, Harry, and you're not making it easy. But, I can hardly pretend that I don't find it strange that Madam Hooch would let you on the team in the state."

Harry gulped and tried to straighten up his aching body, "Seekers are preferred to be small -"

"Understatement of the century," Hermione cursed under her breath. "Harry, you're not just 'small'. 'Small' doesn't do it justice. You're tall now, okay? You need to push yourself harder to comply with your growing body's needs. Especially now that you're exerting yourself, trying to catch that stupid flying golf ball!"

"What's 'golf'?" Ron asked thickly, clearly having just jumped into the conversation without hearing the important parts.

Harry chuckled quietly at Ron's wizard-upbringing-ignorance. Ron laughed with him, his blue eyes struggling to remain open.

Ron groaned as he heaved himself to his feet heavily, "I'm ... I'll be sleeping ... up there -"

"Don't be gross, Ronald! Not before you shower!" Hermione scolded him while Ron turned his back on her.

"I don't much like drowning before supper," Ron glanced over his shoulder down at Harry. "See you later ... if she doesn't incarcerate you by then."

* * *

Harry wasn't the only one making his recovery more difficult than it already was. Though Hermione meant well, he found it positively irritating to be watched while he drank his minestrone soup in the Great Hall. His black hair had not quite dried from his bath. But, his stubborn locks would not bow to dampness for long. They were already perking up in different directions again.

Perhaps it was the communal euphoria of playing Quidditch again, but, Ron seemed far less interested in partnering with Hermione on the make-Harry-gain-weight-campaign.

Ron finally whispered to her, "You should've been there earlier today, Hermione. He was fine up in the air. No faints, no ... _awkwardness_. Give him some credit. I think he's on the right track."

Harry pretended not to have heard him, mostly because nothing about that had offended him. It was nice of Ron to be on his side again ... though he had always been there. As was Hermione. They just wanted him to be healthy which Harry had no objections to complying with. He just wished Hermione would show a little patience. There was only so much food he could eat in one sitting.


	30. Compensation

Harry flinched when the archway door shut a little too loudly behind him. He had been summoned to Professor McGonagall's office on the first floor to sign the bottom of the Howler that was to be sent to the Dursleys' residence. Harry wished he could be there to see his aunt, uncle, and whale of a cousin cower behind the living room couch while the letter reprimanded them for their cruelty towards him. Though his godfather, Sirius Black, had been murdered the previous year Harry had insisted on hinting that the Dursleys' could expect a visit from the 'wizarding mass-murderer'. It had been three weeks since their first Quidditch practice ... and Harry wasn't doing as well as he had that day.

He would rather not admit it to Hermione, but, his food consumption was not compensating for the strenuous practice sessions at the field. Though, after years of perfecting his 'acting' skills at Number 4 Privet Drive, it was second-nature for Harry to hide his suffering. Impossibly, he had lost more weight in the last few weeks ... even though he had been eating well the entire time.

"Well, _obviously_, not well enough, Harry!" he imagined hearing Hermione scold him.

Harry groaned as he rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. With the exception of his lips, there was no softness in his face. He pushed the bridge of his round spectacles further up his nose and noticed how skeletal his knuckles were. His black hair had grown a few inches and now were branching over his ears. Contrary to what he had overheard some witches discussing, his black hair framing his face did not give the illusion of roundness that they feared.

Harry turned away from his ghostly reflection to continue on his way to Charms class. Hermione and Ron were off on Prefect duties which gave him some relief. Harry felt restless and his muscles were jittery. His heartbeat felt irregular and gave him heartburn. He tried clearing his throat before he reached the Charms classroom.

Harry took a seat at the very back of the class. Luckily for him, no one looked up when he came in late. There were all hunched over and taking notes. With a little difficulty, Harry fished out his textbook, ink bottle, and feathered quill. He felt like a heavily lopsided seesaw in which his body felt as light as air while his head had been transfigured into a lead weight.

He leaned his head into his palm and tried his hardest to take notes. But, he gave up when he realized he had read the same line four times. His forearm was looking like a tempting place to take a brief nap. Harry set his head on his boney arm ...

"Mr. Potter, wakey-wakey."

Harry jerked awake and, with his head swimming, he squinted down at Professor Flitwick, "Sorry, professor. _Eh-hm_, I was just resting my eyes."

"My class is over, Mr. Potter." said Professor Flitwick with his eyebrows raised. "I think you better get going to the Great Hall. I recommend you request a _caffeinated_ tea."

Harry heaved himself to his feet after stuffing his belongings back into his bag, "I will. Sorry about falling asleep in class, professor."

Harry felt drained yet he was shocked that he had passed-out in class again. At least this time he did not slip to the floor.


	31. Relief

Five days passed and Harry couldn't remember feeling this good. The Dursleys would sometimes bar meals from him for days at a time. But, here, Harry has grown accustomed again to regular meals. His mood was definitely more endurable for others around him, which usually consisted of no one but Ron and Hermione. It had been a while since Hermione made a comment on Harry's appearance, which was saying something to Harry loud and clear.

He was finally maintaining his weight. He felt tired frequently after stuffing himself with large meals and would have restless nights afterwards. But, if it would keep everyone off his back, Harry was willing to keep it going. A few less hours of sleep was far better than running on low calories all the time. Harry passed under the archway to the boys' shower room.

It was a cavernous space with stalls about four-by-four feet wide. Nothing but a silver showerhead was suspended overhead, requiring the wizard to say aloud what temperature he wanted the water to be. This, however, made it very easy to be bullied by others passing by. If another wizard walked by and said a new temperature aloud, the showerhead would obey that order. Harry had a few too many frigid showers from easily-amused fellow students.

Harry stepped into the stall at the far end of the room with his shampoo and bar of soap. These last two stalls facing each other were the only ones with mirrors about five feet tall hanging on the stone walls. This used to be a witches-only shower facility, which is why there used to be mirrors in all the stalls. But, now, Harry just wanted to examine himself in one to be sure that he wasn't dreaming ... that he was truly getting healthier. He set the shampoo bottle and bar of soap on the tile floor and began to strip his uniform off.

Harry uncoiled his Gryffindor tie and unbuttoned his white flannel shirt. He sighed when he saw that his ribcage was still starkly visible. But, aside from the bruises courtesy of Bludgers during practice, he did look a lot better. Harry hung those along with his robe on the hook fastened into the door of the stall. His arms used to be nothing but skin and bones. After a few weeks of Quidditch training, his biceps were inflating again.

His collar bone was protruding just as much as before and his Adam's apple was poking out obnoxiously. But, there was a difference in his aesthetics. His pale skin had caught a glow in it. It wasn't sickly anymore. It was more like ... ivory. Harry sighed and stepped out of his black slacks.

His long legs were still thin but, like his arms, his muscles were being revived through exercise and absorbing the daily good nutrition. Harry grinned with relief and patted his hands on his stiff stomach. His face was still hollow yet there was a livingly tinge in his skin. Harry knew he was on the right track and nothing could stand in his way of recovery.

Harry gazed up at the showerhead after stowing his circular spectacles in a pocket of his pants and closed his emerald eyes, "Eighty degrees, please."


	32. Desideratum

**December 1996**

Harry was now 5'10" and almost 140 pounds, most of it being muscle acquired from even the mildest form of training during Quidditch games and practice sessions. Hermione still gave him a few concerned looks here and there when he looked particularly haggard. But, she found solace in that it had been weeks since he last passed out. His unruly ebony black hair was starting to thicken once again and his skin wasn't so sallow. Harry only wished his magic had returned to him as easily.

"Have another go, Harry." Ginny coaxed him gently. "I felt the heat from the last one."

They were standing in the D.A. practice room within the Room of Requirement. Harry's bicep was aching from over an hour of trying to incinerate the leftover frames from Dolores Umbridge's rules during her brief, though not brief _enough_, stay.

He aimed his wand at the stubborn wood and growled for the umpteenth time, "_Incendio_!"

The frame finally was ablaze in a tongue of fire almost his height and towering over little Ginny Weasley. Harry gasped at the throbbing ach that intensified with the spell. He trembled and staggered where he stood, this thin face thrown into sharp relief with the shadows cast by the licking flames.

Ginny rushed over to him as the fire died out, "Just give yourself time, Harry. It _will _get better."

Harry chuckled shakily, "More practice, huh?"

He sank down onto the bench nearest to him and Ginny crossed her arms, "Don't get mad, but ... I wasn't talking about magic."

Harry's emerald eyes went from exhausted to fury in a split second which caught even fearless Ginny off guard. She knew about the Dursleys' abuse. Harry cleared his throat, "Which of them told you? Ron or Hermione?"

Ginny pursed her lips, "It doesn't matter, Harry. They're worried -"

"I don't know what else I can do to make them _see_ that I'm _trying_," Harry groaned.

Ginny sat down beside him on the bench. Her deep red hair swung around her porcelein face. She placed a tiny hand on Harry's shoulder, "I don't know what I'd do if I were you -"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Harry snapped.

Ginny scowled at him, "I told you not to get mad."

Harry scratched his lightning bolt scar absentmindedly. The pain was starting to ebb away in his wand-arm. He sighed, "Most of the time I can hide it. But, I _am _mad, Ginny. I'm sick of everyone treating me like a ticking time bomb. I'm tired of needing to prove that I can take care of myself."

Ginny nodded and stroked his black hair, "What else can you do? Go back to the Dursleys and teach them a lesson?"

Harry froze, starring at the dirty floor, "That would _be_ mad ..."

But, as he starred at that spot in the stone floor, Harry thought about what Ginny had suggested. He knew that she had not been serious and that his friends would hold him hostage before letting him go back to Number 4 Privet Drive. Harry wondered if he would ever gain full control of his life _without_ confronting his 'family'.

Ginny giggled nervously, "Harry, you're coming to the Burrow this Christmas. Right?"

Harry nodded but still didn't say anything to her.

She sighed and looked at the hourglass set on the floor nearby, "Well, let's not keep Dumbledore waiting. Don't forget your appointment with him."

* * *

"It's a miracle that you've improved so much," Dumbledore beamed at Harry when he saw the sixteen year old. "Even more so that you are still capable of such love after enduring what you had in Little Whinging."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his chair opposite the headmaster, "Thank you, sir ... I think."

Dumbledore chuckled warmly before he became very serious, "I owe you an apology, Harry. I believed I was only responsible for the danger you encountered on this castle's grounds. But, I never realized that it is my fault that you suffered so at your aunt and uncle's home. It was foolish of me to think that family transcends old prejudices. I am truly, _truly_ sorry, Harry. I will not force you to return to Number 4 Privet Drive ever again. I am sure that you would not object to this."

Harry was momentarily speechless, "No offense, sir, but ... it took you long enough." It felt so good to hear that Dumbledore was now supporting Harry, "Where will I go?"

"I have no doubt that you'll be welcome to stay at the Weasleys over winter break," Dumbledore nodded. "On your upcoming birthday, the Trace will break and you'll be able to call 'home' whatever you want to. In the meantime, to supplement your mother's charm on that house on Privet Drive, we will give every protection possible to the Weasleys' property."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. If Dumbledore had told him this a month and a half ago, he would have been gleeful at the prospect of never having to face the cruelty of his aunt, cousin, and especially his uncle. But, now that he had a choice ... Harry was feeling a strange need. A need for closure ... justice. He needed to make them understand what harm they inflicted on him and pay for it.

They would not expect this. Not Hermione, not Ron, the headmaster, or any of the professors. They would not think to make sure that the Boy-Who-Lived was staying at the Burrow. Where else did he have to go? Harry was going back to the Dursleys over the winter break.

"Thank you, professor." Harry smiled up at Dumbledore.


	33. Cover Story

Harry was struggling to come up with a cover story for why he'll be spending a few days away from the Burrow. He considered making the excuse to spend time alone at Grimmauld Place to grieve his dead godfather, Sirius Black. That was his best idea, though, he was certain he would be met with contradictions. Not to mention he felt uneasy about using his godfather's murder as a ruse. Regardless, he was now on the Hogwarts Express, rocketing back to Platform 9 3/4.

He needed to come up with a lie fast. He kept silent while Ron and Hermione whispered to each other. Harry half-hoped that he would be left with no alternative but to go to the Burrow like he had promised. But, he felt in his heart that he needed this confrontation with his uncle, aunt, and cousin in order to fully heal from the abuse he suffered. He wished Ron and Hermione could come with him.

The scarlet train pulled to a screeching halt by the platform about two hours later and Harry still did not have a good enough cover story. He followed his two best friends mutely, feeling a lump of guilt and sadness swell in his throat. Once they pushed through Platform 9 3/4, Harry could spot Ron's parents rushing towards them. He panicked. While Ron and Hermione sped off to greet Molly and Arthur Weasley halfway, Harry dived into the rapid of bustling Muggles departing from their Muggle trains.

Harry pushed with all his weight and might against his trolley, bouncing between grumpy Muggles cursing at him as he went. He listened for the scared shrieks of his friends though he hoped he would be gone by then. Harry skidded to a halt at the line of taxis by the sidewalk outside Kingscross Station. He glanced fearfully over each of his shoulders before shoving his cart down the sidewalk around to the back of the train station. Harry thrust out his wand-hand and the Knight Bus appeared abruptly mere inches from crushing his toes.

"Number 4, Privet Drive. That's in Little Whinging." He panted as he leapt aboard the magical bus with his heavy trunk in tow.


	34. Final Confrontation

It had been years since Harry saw Privet Drive blanketed with snow. The effect would have been quite lovely if the Boy-Who-Lived would take a moment to notice. Harry stepped down from the Knight Bus and clutched his black coat beneath his shivering chin, his Hogwarts trunk _clunk-clunk-clunking_ down the short flight of steps down to the road. The driveway was slick with ice. Uncle Vernon's car must be stowed away in the warm garage.

Harry's breath curled before his pinked nose like smoke from the fire churning in his gut. He looked away for only a moment to clean his glasses and the Knight Bus vanished. As he made his way carefully up the slippery driveway, he noticed that there were tire tracks crushed through the ice and out onto the street. Since snow had not yet covered it back up, Harry knew it was fresh. His uncle, aunt, or possibly all three had left just minutes ago.

Harry felt the burning sensation in his belly, which had stretched to his throat, cool off a bit. A man was watching him from a window of the house opposite Number 4. He was friendly with Uncle Vernon, as friendly as anyone would dare voluntarily, and had heard his share of nasty tales about the 'delinquent' nephew. He watched Harry try to open the locked door and he reached for his telephone nearby. Harry left his trunk on the waterlogged welcome mat to circle around to the back of the house.

He knew that the back door was usually left unlocked. Luck was on his side for now, for the door was indeed forgotten. Harry groaned as he stepped into the dining room. The warm air from the air conditioner lapped at his cold skin. Harry didn't bother stepping out of his trainers and trekked carelessly across Aunt Petunia's freshly cleaned carpet.

Perhaps there was a dinner to be held later that evening. Harry knew his wet footprints would dry with little harm done. But, part of him hoped his aunt would spot the big impressions in the carpet. Harry unlocked the front door and tugged his trunk inside, which did not go unnoticed by the neighbor spying on him from across the street. That man was still talking on the phone.

Once he dropped his drunk at the foot of his bed, the dread over the Dursleys' return hit him harder than it had when he got on the Knight Bus. Harry sank onto his bed with an arm resting on his cold trunk. His room was left exactly as it had when he had left it over the summer. Judging by the growing layer of dust on every surface, no one had gone into this room since. Harry heard his stomach growl.

But, as if the old rules had his hands tied, he simply went to his desk to write a letter to the Weasleys explaining where he had gone. It was insensitive departing from them the way he had. Harry didn't know how else to get here. He was about the sign the bottom of the letter when he realized that Hedwig was not with him. She was left at Hogwarts.

"_Ugh_, such an idiot!" Harry groaned, thumping his forehead.

The door to his bedroom opened with a _bang_.

"Took the words right out of my mouth, boy," growled Uncle Vernon.

* * *

Harry followed his fuming uncle into the little kitchen, mocking him from behind as Vernon biratted him, "Breaking and entering! You are a criminal now, Potter!"

Harry sat on the countertop near the sink, to Aunt Petunia's horror, "Get your arse off my-!"

Harry reminded his uncle with an air of explaining something very simple, "I _live_ here, uncle, remember? It's not 'breaking and entering' then, is it?

Dudley looked puzzled as ever, "Why are you even here? Don't you stay with ... with _those _people till summer?"

Harry sneered, "I felt like spending a few days with my family. Now ... why does that reply make me want to vomit? Good thing I'm by a sink, 'cause you three make me sick."

Uncle Vernon stepped closer to him, "Get out! Get out _now_! We have enough of you at summer! We don't want you here! You've already got the neighbors gossiping -"

Harry nodded sarcastically, baiting his uncle, "Worried they'll find out the truth?"

"How _dare_ you!" Aunt Petunia got in his face. "Threatening those who raised you -"

Harry snarled, "How dare _I? HOW DARE I_? You really have zero remorse for what you've done."

Dudley clenched his fat fists, "Don't you talk to my mum and dad like that!"

Harry took a deep breath, "All I've done, my whole life, is try to fly below your radar, to _please _you. 'Act like you don't exist' ... you almost broke me. I cooked you breakfast while I _starved_, listened to your prejudicial and _ignorant _slurs, kept silent while you spread lies about me, endured your abuse and neglect. How can you remotely justify treating an innocent child like that?" Harry stepped down from the countertop and roared in Uncle Vernon's face, "IT WAS CRUEL! IT WASN'T FAIR! I always had to struggle and fight and that's made me who I am. I _am_ strong."

Harry had been expecting his uncle to strike. He just couldn't remember how he had gone from shouting in his uncle's face to lying crumbled on the little rug below the sink. His trembling fingers felt at his sliced lip, where his uncle had delivered a precise right-hook. Harry couldn't see his uncle clearly. His glasses had been knocked off by the force of the punch.

Fighting his drooping eyelids, his watering emerald eyes squinted up at his uncle, "That is ... the last time ... you'll ever ... touch me."

* * *

Harry awoke struggling to breathe. He gagged and inhaled hoarsely. Harry's hand flopped around on the nightstand, feeling for his glasses. He could only guess that he had been carried to his bedroom. But, it smelled different ... the bed felt different.

"He's coming around!"

Harry wheezed, "_Mrs. Weasley_?"

He felt a soft pair of hands place his glasses in his trembling fist and he hurriedly put them on. Harry had to wait a few moments to adjust to the clarity ... he was in Ron's bedroom. Hermione and Ginny were also with Molly Weasley.

"H-How d-d-did I g-get here?" Harry asked as he sat up on Ron's bed.

Hermione lunged forward to hug him, followed by a gentle slap across his face, "You gave us a right scare! If it hadn't been for Ginny, we'd probably think you were kidnapped!"

Ginny sank down beside him, "I know you, Harry. I knew you'd want to face your problems. Running away was bothering you. It just wasn't your style."

Hermione explained, "It took us about three hours before we found you. Ginny had the idea that you might've gone to ... 'settle' things with your uncle. Turns out she was right. We all thought it was mad -"

"I had to say 'goodbye'," Harry said quietly.

"Ever heard of a _handshake_, mate?" Ron chuckled as he came into the room with a box of tissues, "Thank Merlin you're awake. Another minute, mum would've carted you off to St. Mungo's."

Harry took the box of tissues from Ron and tried to clear his nose, which was stopped-up with dried blood from Uncle Vernon's punch.

"I'm sorry I left like that," he said, glad that his voice sounded less nasally. "I knew you'd never let me go if you knew."

Mrs. Weasley kissed his forehead, "Glad to know that monster of your uncle did not beat your intellect out of you."

Harry sighed and looked up into Ron and Hermione's eyes, "It's over, okay? No more Dursleys. No more pointless suffering. I am ready to heal now."

**THE END**


End file.
